Tarnished Souls Spilled Blood & Endless Blue Seas
by Anon A. Mauze
Summary: Picking up strays was never part of Kidd's game plan.  All he wanted was to find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates. Funny how things work out sometimes.  Rated mostly for the Kidd Crew's language
1. Chapter 1

**Tarnished Souls, Spilled Blood, and Endless Blue Seas**

_Disclaimer: One Piece isn't mine. But playing with the characters is so much fun I can't resist borrowing them for a while._

_A/N: Many thanks to ARTisK, who pointed out a discrepancy that I have, hopefully, corrected. I could tell something wasn't quite meshing right, but I couldn't figure out where. So, cookies for ARTisK. Not sure when this will be updated. I work sporadically, so you may find this updated next week, or three months from now. Be patient, please.  
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Chapter One:

Just on general principal, Eustass "Captain" Kidd enjoyed terrified screaming. It always felt so _good_ to know one had power over another.

However, it was a different matter entirely when one _wasn't_ the cause of said screaming.

Ok. So that wasn't entirely true. There was plenty of screaming going on behind him, given the mass amount of chaos and destruction his crew had left in their wake. This was the second inhabited island they'd come across, and they were barely in the third week of their journey in the 'New World'. They wanted to let loose a bit after being cooped up on the ship for two weeks with only each other for company. But the screaming they were hearing now was coming from in front of them, so they couldn't possibly be the source. The voice was female, which made Kidd wince when she hit a particularly high note, and held all the pent up desperation of a hopeless situation.

Coming around a rocky outcrop near the beach, the Kidd crew found the source of the screaming.

To them, it was quite a pleasant sight.

A scantily-clad, thin young woman straddled the prone body of an unknown man.

She was currently engrossed in bashing the man's face in with a rather large rock. Blood splattered all over her arms. As well as the restraints around wrists and neck. The chain that connected them all jingled in jarring merry counterpart to the scene.

The screaming finally stopped when she tossed aside the rock and threw herself to the side. "... won't ever go back," they heard her say. "Would rather die. Would rather _kill._"

"Oh, I'd say he's pretty well killed, girlie," chuckled Kidd in malevolent amusement, gazing down at the bloody scene with appreciation.

Squeaking in shock at the sudden intrusion, she jerked her head up to stare uncomprehendingly up at the Kidd crew, fear in her dark blue eyes. The tall and broad man standing before her radiated a kind of darkness she wasn't familiar with. She'd learned, over the years, how to deal with the darker side of lust and greed and the deliberate cruelty inflicted on slaves by their Tenryuubito masters. This man ... this light in his eyes ... It was violence and bloodshed and a harsh viciousness. She shifted a little on the balls of her feet, wanting to run and knowing she'd never be fast enough to get away from the bunch of pirates that had appeared out of nowhere. Perhaps not nowhere, she'd taken the distraction of the pirates' appearance in town and run for it, but she hadn't expected them to come onto the beach. She took a breath, steadying her nerves. She hadn't survived the last ten years by being stupid. Fear was good, it kept you alive. Panic killed.

"A little barbaric, though, to kill him with a rock, don't you think?" Kidd continued, confusing her with his conversational tone on the topic. She hadn't planned on killing anyone in her escape, but the suit had followed her, intent on reclaiming his master's "goods". As she met the pirate Captain's eyes, though, some of the fear leaked away when she saw, of all things, approval. Approval of what she wasn't quite certain.

"What?" Her confusion was apparent in her tone as she blinked up at him.

Kidd cocked his head at her, wondering if she was perhaps a little slow. Crouching down to look her in the eye he grinned at her, half-pleased with the way she flinched back. "A rock isn't the best weapon to kill with. It's dull. Messy, as you can see. Unless one gets lucky, it never kills with one blow." A note of condescension filtered into his voice as he spoke and he fingered the dagger strapped to his chest meaningfully. He paused and looked at the smashed-in face of the unknown man. "Although in this case I doubt you were looking for quick," he mused thoughtfully. Shaking his head, he looked back at her. "Try a knife, next time."

She gaped up at him, utterly shocked at his matter-of-fact tone, and stammered "N-next time?"

"Think there won't be a next time?" He snorted at the thought. "Bullshit. Once you've killed, you can never go back." She shivered, knowing there was no way he could know just how well she knew that. Rising, he glared down at the girl consideringly. He dismissed the fright in her eyes and moved on to the familiar chains and the skimpy clothing now covered in blood splatters. Nodding to himself, he grinned suddenly. "Join me. I want you to join my crew."

Silent, she continued to stare up at him. He couldn't possibly be serious, could he, she wondered in astonishment. She shook her head, trying to make some sense of his ... request. She knew the tone, it was more along the lines of a demand, but he was giving _her_ the choice, and that wasn't something she was used to.

A few mutters came from behind him. "Captain Kidd, are you sure? A girl?" "She'll be useless! You've got no right..." griped one in particular. Kidd made a mental note to gut that one at some point. He was the Captain, he could recruit whomever he damn well wished. "Well?" he demanded. "Make your choice. Do you want your freedom? You'll only get it if you come with me, 'cause otherwise, I'll leave you here for your 'master'."

She flinched and shivered at the threat, eyes downcast. Then slowly, she held up her bound wrists.

Kidd smiled, it wasn't a pleasant smile. And reached out one hand. "Those chains aren't made of seastone, so this should work," he commented, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "Hold still. _**Repel.**_"

From somewhere within the mechanism around her neck and the cuffs on her wrists came a faint "click" and suddenly the restraints fell away. She looked at her hands, then looked up at Captain Kidd in wonderment. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Yeah. Whatever. Just get on your feet and get moving." Turning on his heel, Kidd strode away, the rest of his crew falling in behind him. Killer watched the girl for a moment.

She bit her lip and hesitated for a moment, then wobbled to her feet. Looking down at herself, she flushed. "Umm ..." she began tentatively. "Could I ... maybe ... get something ... better, to wear?" she forced out, shuffling her feet along behind the pirate crew.

A few steps ahead, Kidd stopped and looked her over curiously, not much surprised by the question. Grunting, he took off his furry coat and tossed it at her. "Take that for now. We'll find you something better on the ship."

The heavy coat landed on her with a muffled thump and sent her crumpling to the ground from the weight. Much to her surprise, the man in the mask stepped over to help her wrap the massive thing around her so she wouldn't trip over it. "Best get moving," he advised her quietly. "Boss Kidd doesn't like being kept waiting."

She staggered along in their wake, stumbling over the hem of the too-long coat every once in a while. Her eyes kept going back to her hands, and the ring of bruises and scar tissue around her wrists. Free. She was free. Tears welled up in her eyes and she swallowed them down, figuring this crew wouldn't have much patience for hysterics. She still had no clue who they were, although she could easily see this was no bunch of pushovers, and seemed a short-tempered bunch to boot.

As the crew trooped across the dock and up the gangplank, she hung back and moment and looked at their ship. It certainly fit the over-all menacing appearance of the crew. The hull was painted black from bow to stern, the only spots of color were the aged ivory-white of bone from the bow and a pair of thin blood-red stripes running the length of the ship. Even the main mast was painted black, and the sails were a mix of red, white, and black. One other spot of color was the gleaming brass where the late evening sun struck metal polished to mirror-shine.

"Hey, you gonna just stare, or are you gonna get your scrawny ass aboard before we all die of old age?" called the Captain jeeringly from where he leaned on the deck railing. With the setting sun behind him his hair seemed even more lively than before, waving like living flame in the evening breeze.

Gasping, she jerked her eyes away from the ship and scrambled up the gangplank, struggling to keep the Captain's heavy coat around her. She tripped over the edge of the gangplank at the top, falling to her knees and struggling to rise under the weight of the coat. Once she'd regained her feet, she looked around the deck of the ship, her eyes widening at the riot of color that decorated the ship. It was such a contrast to the menace of the hull. A half dozen men had already scrambled up the rigging and were unfurling the sails under the direction of a small man in a white fur coat whose orange mohawk stood out against the white of the sails. A huge man in black was drawing up the anchor, using sheer brute strength to haul it up hand over hand. The man in the mask, whom she was suddenly sure was first mate, was shouting orders to another dozen men as they secured the spoils from their raid of the town. And standing next to the captain was a man she'd noticed before, with long white hair and deathly pale skin. Something, that looked like stitches, covered his face.

Summarily, she was shoved aside so the gangplank could be drawn in, and she found herself standing next to Captain Kidd when the Tennryuubito came onto the beach and found the body of his dead servant and her discarded chains. She began to tremble, a sudden wash of cold dread sweeping her. Beside her, Kidd began to cackle as the World Noble whipped his head around, searching for his slave. Hearing the pirates' laughter, as the rest of the crew noticed the tableau and joined in, the noble looked directly at the ship that was slowly pulling away from the island and shouted something indecipherable.

Kidd smirked and astounded her by waving at the frustrated noble. "She's ours now," he called across the water and resumed his cackling at the anger on the noble's face. She shuddered at the noble's rage, despite the heavy coat.

Kidd looked at his 'acquisition' as the sails filled and sped the ship ever faster away from the island. Grunting, he turned away from her and double-checked their heading against the log-post. "Don't think I did this out of the goodness of my heart, girl." he told her. "I'll take any opportunity to spit on the Tennryuubito. You're free, and that's fine by me, but if you want to stay on this ship, you work for the right." He was watching her out of the corner of his eye as he spoke, and saw real terror bloom in her eyes at that. He grimaced at the way she flinched and cast an apprehensive look around the deck at the rest of the crew. He knew what she had to be thinking and continued "So, as soon as some more appropriate clothing can be found for you, you're to report to Killer and he'll find you things to do around the ship. Speaking of which," he said as he gestured the masked first mate over, "Killer, she needs clothes. I want my coat back, and that damn harem outfit won't do her much good on a ship. What have we got?"

Killer turned his head to sweep the girl with a look, then dismissed her and returned his attention to his Captain. "A word?" he asked grudgingly.

Shrugging, Kidd walked toward his cabin, propelling the girl along with a hand on her back. He ignored the looks and sniggers being passed around by the crew. They'd get used to having a girl on the crew, or they could leave. He didn't much care which. It would have pinched the tiny pocket in his heart where he kept his sense of honor to leave her there, especially after she'd displayed such ... promise. Glancing at Killer, he had to quirk a grin as his first mate's tense posture. Killer could not like it all he wanted. If she wanted to stay, he was willing to let her, provided she did as much work as anyone else. Reaching out, he opened the door and shoved the girl inside, stepping around her to throw himself into the massive chair behind his map-strewn desk. The chair was a heavy, solid oak affair with plush blue velveteen upholstery, and was one of the few real luxuries he allowed himself. Settling back into it, he propped his feet up on the desk and turned a danger-filled grin on his second in command. "Anything you want to say, you can say it to her face," he told the blond.

Sighing, Killer mentally revised what he was going to say. With Kidd alone, he could be as blunt as he wanted. This girl ... he wasn't sure what to make of her. Or why his Captain had chosen to save her. "Clothes were not exactly high on our list of priorities, Kidd," he began.

The red head waved that off. "You don't need to explain that. I'm well aware the only clothes on board are our own. See if anyone has extras they'd be willing to loan her for the time being. All I want is her dressed in something other than that walking distraction." He glared. "What did you really want to say?"

Taking a breath, Killer let it out slowly. There was no need to get angry. Yet. "Did it ever occur to you that this was not the best time to be adding a new crew member?" he asked quietly, carefully. Holding back the anger that wanted to burst out. "The rest of the crew went through the first half of the Grand Line with us. We can depend on them. This is the "New World", the likelihood that she will survive sailing through it with a pirate crew is slim to none."

While the two pirates talked, the girl took a glance around the room. Rather than plunk his desk in the middle of the room as most people seemed to do, the captain had set it to one side, leaving a space large enough for a table along the far wall, which on closer look also held a map, only half-drawn, the edges held down by various objects. An archway across from the deck door opened onto a bedroom, the bed messy with all the blankets piled up at the foot. In front of the desk sat two chairs, solid wood, secured to the floor, as was everything else in the room. As she looked about she noticed that there was very little on the walls.

"I do know that, Killer." the red head grumbled sourly. "However, the only other option was just as bad. You wouldn't have left her either."

Killer sighed. "No, I wouldn't have," he admitted ruefully. "That's not the point. Right now, she's more of a danger to the crew than anyone else could possibly be."

"I can learn," the girl protested weakly and shrank back from the harsh glare suddenly directed at her. Fearfully, she immediately dropped her eyes and huddled deeper into her borrowed coat.

Unbeknownst to her the Captain and first mate shared a glance after which Kidd shrugged and waved his hand at her, obviously through with dealing with her.

Shaking his head, Killer turned to face her. "Look up," he demanded. "What's your name?"

Hesitantly, she lifted her head. With that mask she couldn't read his face, but she was fairly good at reading body language, and his fairly screamed resignation. "Um. Briseis. Parker Briseis."

He grunted. "And tell me, Parker Briseis, do you want to join our crew? We _are_ pirates."

Glancing away she picked at the fur of the sleeves as she answered. "It's safer than out there," she answered honestly.

Surprised, Killer cocked his head. "Safer?" he asked incredulously. "You think being part of a renowned pirate crew is safer than anywhere else in the world?" He let out a loud guffaw. "Why?" he asked through his laughter. "Why would you think such a thing?"

For the first time, she looked up and met his face squarely, a tiny spark of defiance in her deep blue eyes. "Because _you_ won't care about _this_," she stated bluntly as she turned around and let the coat fall to the floor. She heard the Captain's boots hit the floor as he and Killer muttered a curse. She knew what they were looking at.

"Where the _fuck_ did you get that?" growled Kidd.

She shrugged and faced them once more, a kind of tired sorrow etched on her face. "Didn't you know the Tennryuubito brand their ... possessions?"

Reaching out, Killer brushed his fingertips across the blurred, skewed edges of the mark on her lower back. "It looks like it didn't heal well." he commented absently.

"It didn't. It got pretty badly infected. I almost died. They killed the man who botched the job."

Sighing again, Killer ran a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said at last. Giving her a thorough once over, he nodded once decisively. "You look slender enough to fit my jeans and I've got an old shirt you can have. It may be a bit tight across the chest. Hang on a minute while I go get everything," he said as he walked out, leaving the girl and Kidd behind.

They looked at each other, Kidd somewhat gleefully taking in her near-naked state and Briseis taking the time to study this man, this pirate, who'd gone out of his way to help her. He could almost be considered handsome, she realized, but for the feral expression that gave the heavy brow and broad jaw a threatening cast. "Have I thanked you yet?" she asked abruptly.

He grinned, then leaned forward and set his elbows on the desk, lacing his fingers together to settled his chin on top. "Hmm. Yes. But I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

"Well, thank you for saving me."

The next few minutes were spent in rather uncomfortable silence. Then Killer returned with his arms full of clothing trailed by a tall man with white hair and what looked like stitches all over his face. Killer tossed the clothing at her. "Here. These should do for now. I didn't bother looking for shoes. There's no way anyone on board wears your size and on a ship there's nothing worse than ill-fitting footwear," he told her. "This is Pierre. Amongst many other talents, he's a decent leather-worker, so he'll fix you up with some thick-soled slippers until we reach a civilized island where you can get some proper boots."

Kidd smirked at the sound of Killer in 'newbie indoctrination' mode, even as he noted the somewhat bewildered expression on Briseis's face. "Well, go change!" he barked at her, pointing to a door in the opposite wall. "That's a bathroom. Clean yourself up while you're at it." After she'd fled through the door, he rolled his eyes at Killer. "Too much, too fast," he informed his second. "You overwhelmed her."

Pierre looked at one, then the other. "Am I to understand that she will be remaining with us then?" he asked. When they nodded an affirmative, he shrugged. "She'll have to get used to it. It's not as if he'll lighten up on her just because she's new."

"True." Frowning thoughtfully, Kidd glanced at the door.

"I do hope," Killer began delicately, "that you didn't pick her up just to give yourself a bed partner."

Grimacing, Kidd shook his head. "What the hell are you thinking? Why should I bother with used goods?"

For a long few seconds, Killer and Kidd glared at each other.

Speaking up from where he leaned against the door, Pierre interceded in the silent battle of wills. "She _is_ uncommonly pretty, Boss," he pointed out dryly. "I would also wish to ascertain your motives, were I in his place."

Kidd rubbed hand over his face and rolled his eyes. "Pretty or not," he snapped, "I have no intention to bed her. There, you happy now?"

"Very."

"Fantastic," he drawled out sarcastically. "Now that _that's_ settled, where did you want to start her? We keep a schedule for a reason."

Groaning, Killer sank into one of the extra chairs in the room. For a few long moments he was silent. At last he chuckled ruefully. "Do you know, I haven't the faintest idea? I've never had to deal with a novice. Everyone we've picked up had at least a working knowledge of shipboard life."

Pierre smiled. It wasn't often one would hear either the Captain or Vice-Captain admit to not knowing something. He was debating sticking his two berri in, then saw Captain Kidd directing an inquisitive look at him.

"You have something to say?" Kidd asked.

Shrugging, Pierre allowed himself to slide down the door frame to a seat on the floor. "I'm not sure myself," he admitted after a lengthy silence. "Half of me says to start with the very basics. Give her a solid foundation. The other half of me knows that this situation calls for speed rather than thoroughness. That part tells me to send her up the rigging with a safety rope and a partner to show her how it's done. Once she learns enough to survive, you can move on to the minutiae." He paused, thinking hard. "Actually, a permanent partner might be the best way. She can be shown the ropes without being underfoot." He did not like the looks he was suddenly getting and shook his head. "Don't even think it," he growled.

Kidd grinned at him. "And why not?" he wanted to know. "It was your idea."

He couldn't deny that. Sighing, he relented. "I can teach her basic seamanship." He gave Killer a hard look. "But she also needs to learn to defend herself, and you're the only one who could teach her enough, fast enough to keep her alive long enough to learn the other stuff."

Nodding, Killer agreed. "She should be taught map-reading and weather-reading as well."

A soft voice interrupted them. "But, I ... can't read. Not really." Briseis stood in front of the bathroom door, clean and dressed in her borrowed clothes. After a long look at her, Kidd snickered silently. The girl looked better in Killer's clothes than Killer did. Encased in Killer's jeans, he could see how long her legs were and that her waist was quite trim. The midnight blue of the shirt was a nice complement to her eyes and although it was indeed a bit tight across the chest, she'd left the top two buttons undone and he was rather pleased with the amount of cleavage that was allowed to show. Even the makeup that had been caked on her face was gone, revealing a pleasant peaches-and-cream complexion that glowed with health. The gauzy headpiece was gone as well, and a waterfall of shiny black hair cascaded down her back in a tight braid. He grinned widely. What a prize he'd managed to snitch out from under a World Noble!

Still, he was troubled by her statement. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

She looked away, a hard blush painting her cheeks red. "I can't read." she repeated.

The trio of pirates exchanged a look. This was an unforeseen problem. It was Pierre who voiced the question that was in all their minds. His tone caught between pity and sympathy, he asked "Exactly how long were you a slave?"

She shrugged almost nonchalantly, and if they hadn't seen the glimmer of tears in her eyes they might have bought it. "More than ten years."

"_Shit_," Killer breathed, suddenly feeling a great deal better about Kidd's intervention. "How did you become a slave so young?" he asked, sounding almost angry.

Looking up, she stared at him silently for a few minutes before dropping her gaze and tapping the toes of her right foot against the floor. "I don't remember," she murmured. "All I can recall of ... before, is that my dad was a merchant and mom was a jewelry maker. I remember I thought I had the best parents in the world and that I was supposed to join my dad on his last voyage of the year. Then there's nothing. It's a big blank from that point to the first morning I woke in my first owner's home." Looking up, she gave them a rueful grin. "After that, book learning wasn't something it was considered needful for me to know."

Kidd fixed her with a disbelieving look. "You speak well for one so woefully under-educated," he commented.

She gave him a glare. "I may not be able to read and write, but I can listen. The Nobles will talk around you like you're not even there most of the time." She shrugged again. "It was easy enough to figure out what a new word meant; and there were always older slaves for me to ask."

The three men exchanged another round of glances and finally Kidd shook his head. "We'll add reading and writing to the list, I suppose. Pierre, you're in charge of teaching her sailing. Killer, teach her to fight; I won't have anyone on my ship who can't even do the minimum to protect themselves. And since you're the one with the _proper_ education, you can teach her to read and write too." He grinned at the other two men, knowing just how much they would hate this. "Now, since that's all nice and settled, why don't you find her someplace to sleep and show her where the kitchen and dining area is, Pierre?"

Rolling his eyes, Pierre hooked a finger through the collar of Briseis's borrowed shirt. "Come along then, Miss Parker. I know a nice little cubby-hole that should do wonderfully for you..." he said as he pulled her out the door and to the ladder to below-deck. His voice floated back to the pair of men left behind. "...if we hang a rope, you could even get some privacy by making yourself a curtain out of scraps of canvas."

_**Reviews are like chocolate, one can never have enough.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Tarnished Souls Spilled Blood and Endless Blue Seas**

_Disclaimer: One Piece isn't mine. But the characters are so much fun to play with I can't help borrowing them._

_A/N: I struggled more than I thought I would with this chapter. I'm not very good at transitions from the beginning of an idea to full story. I do have some scenes written out for future chapters, but getting to their point in the plotline might be ... problematic. I will try to update sooner on the next chapter. I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting this long for chapter 2! And please remember that reviews are an author's lifeblood and the source for renewal of enthusiasm.  
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_Chapter Two:_

Padding along barefoot in Pierre's wake, Briseis tried to get her squawking mind under control. The last couple of hours had been full of so many ups and downs she wasn't sure what to even _feel_, let alone think. The last thing she'd expected during her escape was to have a pirate come along and help her. Let alone a pirate such as this Captain Kidd, whose nature didn't seem to be suited to saving anyone. But, whatever his reasons, he'd done so, and for that she would ever be grateful. Remembering his offhand, _easy_, removal of the slave collar, she flicked her eyes to her silent companion. Chewing on her lip, Briseis finally screwed up what little courage she had and asked, "Um ... the Captain ... he has a Devil Fruit power, doesn't he? That's how he got the collar off, isn't it?"

Pierre looked down at the female and nodded. "Magnetics," he replied shortly.

She seemed to think about that for a moment or two. "Huh. That must be useful."

"Most of the time," he said dryly. He gestured down a flight of stairs. "Down there is the galley and eating area. I'll take you there next to get something to eat," he told her tersely. Guiding her down a different set of stairs, he pushed open a door to what was obviously a common sleeping area and turned to the right, stepping into a storage area. Reaching off to the side, he tapped the light switch up to turn on the light. He kicked some crates to the side and pointed at a small inset space out of sight of the main sleeping area. He grunted in recognition at the pile of belongings stuffed into the corner, shaking his head.

"I'll get Kaiga to move his stuff somewhere else. It's not supposed to be back here anyway. You can sleep here. Later, I'll show you where you can get a bit of rope and some canvas for a curtain." He turned around and made his way to the big cupboard where the extra hammocks were stored. Making his way back to the girl, he handed it to her. "Trust me when I say a hammock is a lot more comfortable to sleep in on board a ship than on the floor - or in a bed. We can hang it up later." Moving over to a crate with an strange brown splash across the top, Pierre pulled it open and started rooting through it. Cautiously curious, she edged over to peer in. It was a random jumble of odd things. She saw clothes, a fishing net, a coil of heavy thread, and a handful of tools.

"Hmm. Here we go." he said finally, pulling out a battered, familiarly furry coat. It was very long, an oddly dark brown-grey, with wide sleeves and a rip at the bottom reaching half-way up the back. "This should do you for a blanket until we hit another island. Used to be Master Kidd's, until he got his new one. He won't mind you using it." He set it on top of the hammock. Reaching back in he cast a glance at her. "Do you know how to sew?" At her hesitant nod, he picked up the coil of thread and handed it to her. "I'll loan you a needle and you can fix that rip in the back. I forget how he managed that one." Dusting off his hands, he straightened to his full height and looked at her, almost buried under the hammock and coat. A wry half-smile worked it's way across his face. "Put all that down in your corner and we'll go get something to eat," he told her, softening his tone a hair.

Once she'd put her new belongings away, he walked her over to the dining area. He ignored the babble that broke out when Briseis entered behind him, only scowling, briefly, at the indecency of some of the remarks going around. "Enough," he growled, instantly silencing the room. "As a member of the crew, you will treat her to the same amount of respect as any other." Glancing around the room he looked for one person in particular. Lighting on a mop of shaggy blonde hair, Pierre made his way over to the table the man was sitting at. "Kaiga. Find somewhere else to stash your stuff," he said bluntly, gesturing over his shoulder at Briseis, who remained hovering in the doorway uncertainly. "She'll be sleeping there from now on."

"Aw, man!" the blonde groaned. Several wads of beri were shoved in the direction of the tallest member of the crew, who grinned widely and stacked it all neatly in front of him. "Told you," he rumbled, opening a pouch on his belt to scoop the coins into. Hovering behind Pierre, Briseis swallowed, wide eyed at the man's appearance. For half a breath she couldn't decide whether the … thing on his head was his hair or a hat of some sort. He turned his head slightly and she realized it was actually a little of both. Two long spikes of heavily gelled black hair had been threaded through a black skull-cap. Then he stood and she felt her jaw dropping. He must have been at least nine feet tall! And to further her shock, he wore _leather mini-shorts_. She stifled her giggle before it could escape.

Pierre looked on, unimpressed. He raised a non-existent eyebrow. "You do realize the Boss'll kill you if he finds out you were making bets on this, Doc," he drawled, smirking, just a little, at the handful of flinches that one sentence created. "Just get your things moved, Kaiga. Preferably sometime ... soon," he added pointedly. At this, Kaiga scrambled out of his chair and was out the door in moments.

Taking the girl's arm as he moved away from the table, Pierre gave her a small push toward the galley. "Food is that way," he said. "Shio is a decent cook. It won't be extravagant, but you'll never go hungry." As they passed the door to the kitchen, Pierre stuck his head in, grimacing when his long hair once again got caught on a stray splinter of wood. "Shio, get me two plates of whatever you've got on the stove. Boss wanted me to get the new crew-member settled, and that means fed too." He glanced down at the black haired head at his side. "Everyone, aside from Boss Kidd and Killer-san, does a circuit in the kitchen," he informed her. "Shio can't do all the work to feed us by himself, so every day one or two people are assigned to help him out." Taking the two large bowls presented to him by a short, skinny, bald man in a plain white apron, Pierre bumped her on the head with one bowl-filled hand. "Shio, this is Briseis. Boss decided to keep her, so she'll be added to the help rotation at some point. Briseis, this is Shio. He's the oldest of our crew, and generally the most laid-back."

"Heyla, pretty one," Shio said genially. "Ya ever get hungry, just stick yer head 'round the door and ask, 'kay? This bunch eats more'n any three ordinary men, so I've always got somethin' ready."

"Yes, sir."

Shio curled his lip disapprovingly. "Don't call me "sir" again, okay? I'm not _that_ old. It's just Shio. Now go get some of my good food in you. Pierre, here, is second mate, so he'll run ya ragged long afore it's time to eat most days."

She smiled hesitantly and nodded, allowing Pierre to pull her to an empty table. sitting down in the chair he indicated. He set one of the bowls in front of her and, settling into another chair, eagerly dug into his own dish.

She sat. Waiting.

That was when Pierre got his first inkling that getting her adjusted to a pirate's way of life might be more difficult than he previously thought. When he finally looked up from his food, he frowned. She hadn't so much as touched the spoon he'd set next to the bowl, and was staring at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked after he'd swallowed his bite.

She looked down, chewing on her bottom lip, her hands trembling in her lap. "You ... you didn't say I could."

His right eyelid twitched, and somewhere down deep inside he felt a slow stirring of anger. Given what they'd rescued her from, ...the implications were clear enough. "Go ahead and eat. From now on, don't wait to be told to."

He kept watching to make sure she did start eating, then turned his attention back to his own food.

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Meanwhile, back in the Captain's cabin, Kidd growled and pulled a fancily-marked, leather-encased bottle out from one of the drawers of his desk. Popping the cork out, he took a long guzzle before handing it to his first mate. Even though he'd decided to keep Briseis, for the moment, her current meek attitude irritated him no end. He eyed Killer. "Think it's a mistake?" he drawled, milk-mild, having a good idea of what was going through his friend's head.

Killer remained silent. He didn't think it was a _mistake_, exactly, just bad timing. Grimacing, he remembered Kidd's little speech at the Human Shop on Sabaody. He understood his captain's views (he shared many of them) but he still wasn't sure _why_ Kidd had chosen to intercede in _this_ case. The girl would be a major hindrance for quite some time. And Kidd _hated_ it when they wasted time. So he knew Kidd must have had a reason for doing what he did. The blonde lifted the bottle and swished its contents around, then lifted his mask and took an equally long swig from it, raising one eyebrow in appreciation of the potency and flavor. "Good stuff," he commented. He set it down on the desk. "No, I don't think it was a mistake. Just you exercising your "charming" side." That statement garnered a loud guffaw from the red-head. "I still want to know why you did it."

He watched was the other man closed his eyes to mull that question over. Kidd was anything but stupid, some things just came more slowly than others. Killer might be the voice of reason when the danger was too much, but there was a good reason Kidd was the Captain and not him that had nothing to do with Kidd's violent, unforgiving nature.

Finally, Kidd leaned back in his chair and shrugged. Opening his eyes he met the impassive face of his second in command. "She has ... potential." He struggled for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe it. "I could feel ... a rage that wouldn't be satisfied if it bathed in the blood of the whole world." Picking up the bottle Killer had set back on the desk he eyed it for a long moment. "I want to ... control it. Give it a direction. She might seem meek and docile now, but I think, with the right motivation, she will be an asset."

"I see." And he _did_ see. He'd seen the moment when she'd grabbed hold of the natural fear Kidd instilled in everybody and shook it, wrestling it to _her_ will. That took a special kind of determination.

"Well, whatever," Kidd grumbled into Killer's musings. "I can always dispose of her later if I want to. For now, though, she's your problem. Beat her into shape however you want." Just like that, Killer knew Kidd had every intention of ignoring her until she was up to _his_ standards. Which were astronomically high. He sighed silently. What a task his Captain had assigned him.

Standing, Killer gave a long stretch and, pulling his mask back down, turned toward the door. "If that's all, I'd best get back out on deck. Pierre will handle her for tonight." He closed the door behind him silently as Kidd took another drink from the bottle and rose from his chair. Killer shook his head. He'd often wondered how many people underestimated Kidd because of his temper. Right about now Kidd would start updating the logbook with the events and adding the island they'd just left to the map on the table in the corner. This was Kidd's quiet time. He was vicious and violent and destructive on a battlefield, and because of that a lot of people thought he was just a homicidal maniac. Kidd was one of the smartest people Killer had ever met. It was the reason idiots pissed Kidd off so much. True, Kidd was no kind of deep, philosophical thinker, but if it was useful in some way toward achieving his dream, then once he learned it, it stuck.

Of course, once his few minutes of quiet time were up, he'd go right back to terrorizing the crew.

Checking the deck to make sure the evening watch had taken up their posts, Killer headed down to the small section of the hold he used for training. He'd make sure he had everything he needed to teach a beginner.

It was good that she was in relatively good physical shape. It would have been unfortunate if she'd been half-starved the way most slaves were. He supposed there were _some_ advantages to being a bed-slave, although Briseis may not have agreed with him on that score.

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Back in the meal-hall, Pierre watched as Briseis finished the bowl of soup with a slurp as she drank down the broth and set the bowl aside. "Done?" he asked in an amused tone. She nodded, a bit of red staining her cheeks. "Alright, then. Let's get you set up. We'll hang that hammock and fix the tear in the coat, and then I'll dig out some leather and make you some slippers. For now, though, don't wear them when you're up in the rigging. It's dangerously slippery up there, and until you have a better sense of how to move about, you won't want to have anything on your feet." For a moment, Pierre felt somewhat strange. He'd never spoken so much before. Briseis had remained very quiet during her time with him, speaking rarely and barely loud enough to be heard. Like now, her only response to his admonition was to nod in agreement. Frankly, he didn't really understand why Master Kidd would want to keep her on as part of the crew. He shrugged, shaking away those thoughts. His opinion didn't really matter; generally speaking, Master Kidd almost always got what he wanted.

She trailed him out, like some lost waif, her steps almost soundless.

Stepping into the alcove, he nodded absently to himself when he saw that Kaiga had moved his things. He picked up the hammock and shook it out, holding out one end to the girl. "Hang that loop on the end up on the hook on that wall," he instructed, reaching up to unscrew another such hook from higher up on the opposite wall. Eyeing the other hook, he gauged the level and screwed it back into the wall, hanging his end of the hammock on it. Opening a small storage cupboard above the alcove, he pulled out a couple of small nets and hung them on the hooks over the hammock ends. "Use these to store your stuff in, as I'm sure you'll eventually collect possessions," he explained, tugging on a specific line to open them. "See this line? Just pull it like this to open and close it. Be sure that anything small enough to fall out of the mesh is put inside something larger that won't."

"Okay."

Well. At least it was a verbal response. "Let me go get that needle for you. " He stepped out into the common sleeping area for the crew, weaving between hammocks to his own footlocker. Unlocking it, he pulled out a small leather bag and opened it, picking out a couple of his heavier needles. Then, sticking the needles in his mouth, he rummaged deeper and pulled out a length of heavy leather and eyed it critically. Not the best stuff for shoes of any sort, he mused, but it's what he had on hand. It would have to do. He reached down and snatched up the matching color of thread, his awl, and his extra pair of boot laces.

Returning to the alcove, he nodded to her and handed her the larger of the two needles to fix the coat. Settling himself cross-legged on the floor, he tapped one leg. "Sit down and stick out your foot, would you? I need to make a tracing of your foot to make the slippers." She did so, and while he used an ink pen from his pocket to draw the shape of her foot on the leather, he said "These'll be pretty shapeless. You really should get real boots as soon as possible." Finishing with the one foot, he tapped the other with his pen. "Next foot. What I'm going to do is cut out two soles for each foot and sew them together before adding the uppers. This'll give you double layered protection for your feet. If you're careful, you can even rough up the bottoms to get a bit more grip with them. Leaving the leather slick like it is now will have you sliding all over the deck," he explained. He pushed her foot away. Looking up, he saw her watching him with a confused look and raised an eyebrow. "Yes? You have a question?"

Shaking her head, Briseis looked away. "Just ... trying to figure out why you're being so nice."

He blinked. She thought he was being _nice_? Shrugging, he pulled out his belt knife and began cutting out the bottoms for her slippers. "If you're to be part of the crew, it would only make sense that I, being second-mate, make certain you are well-prepared for it. Ergo, you need shoes of some sort, so why _shouldn't_ I make them, as I have the skill to do so?"

Fumbling with the heavy coat, she hauled it up on her lap so she could see the rip in the back. "I don't mean that. It's ... your whole attitude. I ... never expected pirates to be _friendly_."

"As the Captain commands, so shall we do," he informed her with a small chuckle. "Personally, I couldn't care less why he chose to take you on. You're here now, and that's the end of it. I'm being ... friendly, as you say, because you are part of my crew, regardless of how recently you joined it."

"Oh." She picked at the edges of the rip, absently lining up the two sides of the interior lining. Reaching to one side, she picked up the coil of thread Pierre had given her earlier and unwound a few feet of it. She eyed the tear for a long moment. It was way too even and precise to be anything but a sword cut. Sighing, Briseis bit off the length of thread and knotted it. Brushing aside the lining, she lined up the edges of the leather outer shell and began sewing it together.

An hour passed in relative silence as the pair worked. From overhead came the sounds of booted feet moving about the deck and muted cheers from the dining room. Finally Pierre turned to her and held up the finished slippers. "Here, try these on," he told her.

Carefully, she knotted her thread and set aside the coat. Then reached for the slippers. Slipping them on and taking a few steps around the alcove, she turned and gave him a slight smile. "They'll do," she said.

"Good, good. Did you get the rip sewn up?"

She gave Pierre a wry look. "If that's a rip, I must be blind," she said. The happy look on her face fell a little. "Somebody got way too close."

He nodded solemnly. "True. Come on, let's see if we can find enough old canvas to make up that curtain I promised." He rose from his seat on the floor with a slight grimace. He was a bit stiff from so long in one position. He lead her through a couple of doorways and down a flight of stairs into the ship's hold where he dug about in a couple of boxes until he found what he was looking for. Unfolding it, he gave it a long look. It was certainly large enough and from the ragged sides had obviously been in use before as a sail. There was even a good grommet on one corner. It would do. While he moved over to the rope locker, Briseis wandered off, hearing a few casual mutters from behind a door. Peeking her head around the door frame she saw Killer pacing in circles, gesturing occasionally and muttering to himself.

He caught her there and cocked his helmeted head. Then she suddenly found herself dragged into the room and plunked down on her feet in the middle of it while he continued with the pacing and muttering, only this time it was accompanied by a few casual pokes and prods as he walked around her. "You've done some heavy labor," he said at last, a slight note of disappointment in his voice. "But that was some time ago and you've lost the muscle tone you once had from that hard work. We'll have to start small and work our way up with you. I am gratified to learn that you've nothing to "unlearn" as it were. You've never held a weapon in your life." He headed over to a small chest in one corner that she blinked at, discovering was securely bolted to the floor. Opening it he pulled out two pairs of leather cuffs and a small bag that clinked as he swung it about. He looked up and crooked a finger at her. "Come here," he demanded as he slipped a small bar of metal inside a cuff. Grabbing her wrist, he fastened it with two snaps and let go. He held up the matching cuff, showing her the small pouches on the inside of it. "These are for weights. This bag here has little bars of iron that fit into those slots. Add one every three days to each cuff. The other pair are for your ankles. Do not take them off until I tell you to. Wear them constantly," he ordered her briskly.

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, head hanging, as he piled the items into her hands.

He looked up at the desolate tone. Shaking his head, Killer closed the chest and sat on it. "Look at me," he said quietly. He waited patiently until she was looking at his mask. "Boss Kidd has ordered me to give you weapons training. This is only the first step in that. This is my training room, anything that I do to practice that doesn't need a lot of room I do in here. In the evenings after dinner, unless you have watch, come here and I will train you. I will not be kind or easy on you. Your survival will depend on how well you can fight. So I will push you until you drop, pick you up to stand you on your feet and work you even harder. There will be days when you _will_ want to kill me. Fine. But don't ever think I would ask anything of you not related to that training. Aside from Kidd, myself, and Pierre, you can tell anyone else who orders you to do something to piss off. And if any of the three of us is drunk enough to ask _that_, well, then you can tell _us_ to piss off."

At the door, Pierre chuckled softly, a coil of light-weight rope dangling from his hand and the length of sailcloth draped over his shoulder. "Pretty speech, Killer." He met Briseis's wary eyes. "He means it. Killer generally doesn't speak unless he means it. If it'll make you feel better, I could put it about that Kidd has put out "no touchie" orders about you."

"You'd ... do that?" Briseis goggled at him.

"If I think it'll avoid a lot of misunderstandings, yes."

"I ... I ... thank you."

Killer huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "We might be pirates, but that doesn't mean we're stupid or completely heartless. You've had an awful life. Now that you're part of our crew we have an obligation, of sorts, to protect you until you can protect yourself. Even if it means protecting you from the rest of the crew."

She looked thoughtful for a long moment. "Oh. I ... never thought about it like that."

Killer nodded. "Good. You get it. Put the rest of those weighted cuffs on as soon as you can. Start out with one weight bar in each. If you're curious, their purpose is to help you build up muscle tone even if all you're doing is walking around on deck. With those, the simplest task is an exercise in muscle control."

"Nifty," she replied drolly.

Pierre gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Come on, then," he said. "Let's get this curtain hung and then I suppose you can go to bed. I'll come get you in the morning so we can begin your lessons." Killer silently made a shooing motion with one hand, and she hesitated briefly before following the taller man out. Pierre looked back at her over his shoulder as he wound his way out of the hold. "Killer's an honest sort, so far as it goes. As a fighter he's top notch, but deception is not something he's good at. He's too straight forward for it," he reassured her, not really understanding the impulse to do so. "He's not a kind or gentle man, but he _is_ honest. Or perhaps I should say blunt. Like a brick to the face most of the time," he told her with a bit of wry amusement. "Boss Kidd's the same, more or less. He's simply more ... driven." Pierre shook his head. "Kidd's also the more short tempered of the two. Killer can keep his head under any circumstance, cool, calm and calculating. Kidd ... well, he'll survey a situation just long enough to know who to kill first, then he'll rush in and clobber things." He chuckled, genuinely amused at some of the things he recalled Kidd doing. "Not to say he isn't a brilliant fighter, just that he tends not to consider long term strategies."

She had to smile and bite back a soft laugh at that description. "I ... overheard someone say once that no strategy ever lasts past the first encounter with the enemy. So maybe that's not such a bad thing. If Captain Kidd's good with short term stuff then usually that's better than someone who sticks to one plan and can't adjust to new situations on a battlefield."

Startled, Pierre stopped and turned to face her. He was frowning. "That's ... rather astute for someone who essentially grew up a slave." It wasn't _quite_ an accusation, but she heard the myriad of questions behind it.

She shivered, hard, and wrapped her arms about her. Dropping her eyes to the floor, she shrugged. "I ... It was ... pillow-talk, mostly. Some of ... _them,_" she spat venomously, "considered themselves to be quite the experts on such things. I learned a long time ago to _listen_ to everything, to remember it. I was a slave, not deaf or stupid."

Pierre stared down at her for a moment longer. "I see. Perhaps I'll pick your brain tomorrow to see what else you might have picked up." Reaching out, he put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. He gave her a small smile. "It's good that you remember these things. They will help you to survive that much longer. Now, we'll go hang this curtain for you and I'll see you in the morning." Putting a hand at her back, he propelled her along through the crew quarters and into her alcove. "There's two places we can hang this. One will afford you less privacy, but more space; the other will give you more privacy and less space. First is over the doorway here, but people come in here all the time for the things that are stored here, for example that pile of boxes over there is Boss Kidd's stuff," he said, jerking a thumb at one particular corner where a half dozen or so boxes were stacked. "So even though you'd have a bit more space to move around in, it's more likely that someone could walk in on you. On the other hand, we could hang it just across the area where your hammock is hung, which would mean there would be no reason for anyone to look past it. It would be your space alone, albeit a much smaller area."

"That sounds fine to me," Briseis replied quietly. "Used to be I didn't even have a mattress I could call my own. I had to share with a couple other child-slaves. So it's not like I'm accustomed to having any space at all to keep for myself."

"Alright then. First lesson on knots," he told her with a wide grin. Swiftly, his nimble hands made a loop and tied it off. "This here is a simple slip knot. Look, it's tied to have the other end of the rope going through the knot so you can adjust the size of the loop at the end. Excellent for easy jobs like this." Handing her the loop to study he unfolded the sailcloth and pulled out his belt knife, making short work of adding slits to run the rope through. Taking the end of the rope back from her, he slipped it through the grommet on the corner. "So, we have a nail here on the wall and this is why you want a slip knot." Slipping the loop over the nail head, he gave the long end of the rope a tug. Briseis let out a startled "Oh!" when the loop tightened of its own will around the nail to the point that it couldn't just be yanked off. "See? Now, you want to be able to slide this out of the way, so pull the rope through the the next slit and repeat until you reach the end," he said, showing her what he meant by running the rope through the first few slits. She proved she'd been watching though, when she took rope and curtain from him and finished the task without a single mistake. "Good!" he complimented her. "Now try to make the same knot on this end."

She fumbled the first few attempts, but then he took her hands and showed her how her hands needed to move. Then she got it, and held up the finished knot with a glowing smile of accomplishment. Without Pierre's prodding, she hung it on another nail and gave the long end a tug to tighten it. "Well done. It's ..." he paused at the sound of a whistle from overhead. "the start of the first evening watch. Which means it's 8 pm. First evening watch runs from 8 pm to midnight. I'll explain how our watch system works tomorrow. You get to relax for the rest of the evening, if you want." Making a guess, he asked "Are you still hungry? Shio should still have food left."

She bit her lip and glanced away. She'd never been offered extra food before. At least not without having given something in return. And the way Pierre had said "free time" made her wonder something else. "I ... is there something I could carry in here to eat? And ... if at all possible ... I'd like a book to read," she asked shyly, feeling greatly daring. "When I was ... taken, I'd just started learning to read in school. I never learned to write, true, but I might be able to read a little bit. So I was thinking that maybe I could try to ... puzzle it out on my own."

He regarded her for a long moment. "A book, huh?" he asked rhetorically. "The food is no problem. We've got bread, cold sausage, and we picked up some good cheese at that island. I'm sure Shio won't have a problem with giving you some of that. But a book ... that would mean a trip up to Boss Kidd's cabin. It's the only room on the ship with books in it. And whether he might have something you could "puzzle out" as you say is rather iffy." Seeing her fallen expression he shrugged. "I suppose it could do no harm to ask." Leaving it at that, he strolled away and she fell in behind him once again, her light steps still whisper soft.

chapter end.


	3. Chapter 3

**Tarnished Souls Spilled Blood and Endless Blue Seas**

_Disclaimer: One Piece isn't mine. But the characters are so much fun to play with I can't help borrowing them._

_A/N: Many thanks to all who reviewed. In Spanish. Which I can not read . Yes, I looked up the translations. But if you could, please keep it in mind. In addition, one of my OCs has a distinct accent and I will not write him without it just so the translators can make sense of it. Also, a huge plate of cookies to The AnonyMouse, whose review gave the kick in the pants I needed to get a jump start on this chapter. Your review made my day. Oh yeah, one other thing: if we ever find out Mr. Zombie-man's canon name, as well as the other Kidd pirates' names, be prepared to get an influx of revisions. Since this is set during the timeskip, I want to keep it as close to canon as possible. **And don't forget to review!**  
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_Chapter Three:_

As they walked, she fumbled with the cuffs Killer had given her, managing to get one of them snapped securely around her other wrist. Tucking the two for her ankles into the bag of weights, she supposed she'd have to wait a little while to put them on.

Briseis found herself abruptly abandoned at the doors to the eating hall when Pierre heard the sounds of a fight break out up on deck and admitted to her that he should have been up there himself, as he was third shift watch captain. Whatever that meant. She attempted to babble an apology but he waved it off saying "Boss Kidd's orders come first on this ship. He told me to deal with you. Go on in and get yourself something to eat." With that he strode off, the heels of his boots thumping loudly as he walked. That's odd, she thought, he was so ... quiet when he was walking before. Shaking herself, she looked at the door before her. Hesitantly, she slipped through it, hugging the wall as she worked her way over to the kitchen, hoping she wouldn't be seen.

No such luck.

Spotting her edging along the wall, one pirate nudged his neighbor and nodded his head at her. They traded grins and rose. The rest of the room noticed this and everyone's attention zeroed in on her. A handful of them joined the first pair in converging on her. Cornering her, they leered down at her.

"Well, the pet graces us with her presence at last," one sneered. "Did Pierre finally get tired of you?"

Wide-eyed and shaking, she shook her head violently, cowering away from them. Her knees felt weak and what little hope she had been harboring sputtered and died. She'd thought she would be safe. She'd thought pirates had to be better than the Tenryuubito, at least a little. Obviously she'd been wrong. Ducking, Briseis tried to slip out the side of the ring of men around her.

They grabbed her, backing her up against the wall. "Ah, don't be like that, pretty. We just want to ... play," they snickered, crowding closer, hands reaching out to touch. Working her mouth, she tried to get some sort of sound to escape, but terror paralyzed her throat.

"Yeah," added the first, pressing up against her. "Come on, won't you play with us?" One of his hands wrapped around her braid, yanking hard to force her face up as he peered down at the very nice view her shirt presented. It was the perfect angle for him to see the moment he died.

Blood sprouted on his chest.

As the body collapsed, the rest stumbled away from the lean form of Killer, who calmly retracted his blade and wiped it off on the fallen man. "I trust there will not be a repeat of this ... performance?" he questioned icily. Glancing at the girl, he snarled to himself at the raw terror that radiated out from her. "Stand up," he demanded harshly, firmly taking hold of her upper arm. He could feel every shudder that passed through her and from the way she leaned on his strength, was about to have her legs fall out from under her. Returning his attention to the crew, he tapped the blade on his wrist against his thigh. "All of you will be assigned to extra duties. Attacking another crew member is _not_ tolerated. For now, take this ... thing," he said indicating the body "and dump it over board. It deserves no honor. Then you will go stand on deck in a line in front of the main mast. Stand at attention and do not move from there until I tell you otherwise." As he'd spoken, Briseis took several deep breaths and slowly gathered her wits about her. Finally, it felt like her legs would hold her weight again.

Gingerly, she gave her arm a tug, uncertain what would happen once she had the furious man's attention. "Killer-san?" she asked.

Watching the handful of now sullen men as they picked up the body and cleaned up the pool of blood, Killer turned his head toward her. "What?" he snapped back.

Flinching, she poked the hand that was gripping her arm. "Um ... you can let go."

Releasing her, Killer gave her his full attention.

Behind him, one of the ... condemned scowled as he helped the others pick up the body. "Just a damned whore," he muttered sourly, unintentionally just loud enough to be heard. "Why're they making such a fuss?" He choked back his next words when one of Killer's blades appeared in his field of view. Looking up, the familiar blue and white mask glared down at him, and he could practically see the smoke coming out of it.

"It would seem, Rosto, that you don't quite understand," Killer said silkily, winter's deepest cold freezing the entire room. He settled his blade firmly under the man's chin. A thin line of blood trickled down the man's neck; shockingly red against his pale skin.. "Whatever she was before has no bearing on her status on this ship. From the moment she stepped aboard this ship she was a member of Captain Kidd's crew. Is that clear enough?" He grinned wolfishly at the other's frantic nod, although no one could see it. "Good. Now, can you tell me what the usual punishment is for attacking another crew member?"

As the other four slunk off carrying the body, Rosto collapsed to his knees on the floor. "I-I-I ... ke-hel b' B's Kiii. " he stammered incoherently.

"Yes," Killer growled, ignoring the slight tug on his sleeve. "Captain Kidd will hang you from the bottom of the figurehead by your ankles. Fortunately, there's too many of you to do so. Unless you'd care to take their punishments on yourself? No? I thought not. Now, get up on deck and do as I've told you, or I may decide to hang you from the bottom of the crow's nest." Stepping back, Killer allowed the man to rise and stagger off to the door. Looking down at Briseis's shocked expression, he nodded at her, indicating she should speak.

By now, everyone in the eating hall was hanging on every word, curious how this was going to play out.

Hugging herself, she looked away from Killer's impassive mask. "It's ... I ... what ... what are you going to do to them?" she asked.

He shrugged slightly. "I'm not going to kill them, if that's what you're worried about. Kidd might, even if the rule is generally only applied to fights with blades, but right now we need all the hands we can get. I'll probably just assign them extra duties." And maybe a stern lashing, too. Just to make sure the lesson was learned. As he thought, Killer took a small rag out of a pocket and began wiping the blood of his blade. "Was there something you came in here to get?

She nodded. "Just ... Pierre said that I could get a snack, if I wanted it. But he had to go up on deck to stop a fight. I thought I would be alright; he'd already chewed them out once for ... some remarks they'd made, when we came in here earlier." Realizing she was close to babbling, Briseis snapped her mouth shut.

"I see." Killer said quietly. "Well, go ask Shio to feed you. I doubt this bunch will bother you," he added, indicating the handful of crew members still in the room. "Although, I may be _speaking_ with them later for allowing that to occur." The men had the grace to look slightly ashamed, and a couple offered muttered apologies. Putting his hand on her shoulder, Killer led her over to the kitchen door and looked in. Rolling his eyes, he advanced on the sleeping Shio.

Raising his metal covered fist, he brought it down with a loud bang on the small table top where the cook's head lay.

Startled out of his light doze, Shio jumped up, causing his chair to fall over and he fell down with it. Chuckling sheepishly, he offered the annoyed Second-in-Command a wry grin as he picked himself up off the floor. "Ah, Killer-san. What can I do for ya?"

"Haven't you been told about drinking that stuff?" he asked, pointing at the little green bottle tucked away in Shio's shirt pocket. From where she stood behind Killer, Briseis saw the smaller man's hands rise to cover the bottle protectively.

"I know, I know. It makes me sleep," the older man said, not sounding at all contrite.

Killer nodded agreeably. "It does. And now you owe the girl, here, an apology. While you were in here napping, some of the crew ... assaulted her."

"Oh, dem, girl," Shio said, chastened, finally noticing her. "'M sorry. He's right, I shoulda thou' of it b'fore. Most of these boys won' understan', bein' a pack of wharf-rats."

Accepting the apology, Briseis gave him a tiny smile. "It's alright. No ... permanent damage done. Just scared out of my wits." She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "Um, Pierre said I should ask you for a snack to eat, something I can carry with me?"

Brightening at the thought he might be able to make up his lapse to her somehow, Shio nodded. "Sure, I c'n get ya somethin' like that. We got some salami 'round here somewhere, I think. Let me see what I c'n round up." Striding over to the bank of blue-painted cupboards along the far wall, he unlocked one and reached in. He pulled out a box of crackers and shook it at her. "These do?" he asked.

"Sure."

Stepping away, Killer left the newest crew member to her food. Heading up on deck, he glanced at the men ranged before the main mast and shook his head. They should have known better. Kidd would be pissed when he found out. True, they expected a certain amount of violence, but this was beyond what was acceptable. Tramping up to the quarterdeck, he spotted Pierre in the halo of light at the ship's wheel while he eyed a pair of men as they scrubbed the deck. Ah, right, the girl had said something about a fight on deck. "Pierre?" he called.

The taller man glanced at him and waved. "What is it?"

"You left her alone."

Pierre shrugged that off. "I can't be watching her all the time," he replied dryly. "She needs to learn to stand on her own."

Throttling back his ire, Killer gestured at the group of men at the main mast. "And that bunch there attacked her when she entered the kitchen area."

"Ah, hell." Pierre said with a scowl as he turned to look. "Rosto and his bunch? I'd already told them to leave her alone. She ok?"

"Fine. Just got a good scare. I left her with Shio. He'll watch her." He favored the taller man with a look. "You shouldn't have left her. You know how Rosto feels about women."

Sighing, Pierre straightened and walked over to the railing. "I didn't know he was still in there. I take it Shio'd had some of his juice? I can't imagine this would have happened if he'd been awake."

"That's right. I doubt he'll allow a repeat. I think he likes her."

"Shio likes everyone."

"True. What's with these two?"

Chuckling, a sound like he grinding a bunch of small rocks together, Pierre waved a hand at the crate tucked away in a corner. It's top was scattered with a deck of cards and a few coins. "Just a fight over a card game."

"Then you're done with them?" At his nod, Killer grinned behind his mask. "Good, you can help me deal with that bunch."

As the pair descended the stairs, Briseis poked her head out of the door to below-decks. Shio had been very generous, giving her a tiny basket stuffed with crackers, cheese, salami, and a couple of apples. At her request, he'd also settled a small bottle of cider on top of it all. She grimaced at the sight of the five men at the main mast. Slipping out, she hefted the other basket over her shoulder and balanced it there. Shio had told her that Kidd hadn't eaten yet when she mentioned her request to Pierre, and had fixed up a meal for the Captain as well. He'd handed it to her and all but shoved her out of the kitchen with the orders to stay with the man and make sure he ate. Heading around the corner, she felt the angry stares on her back but refused to look back.

Setting the larger basket down to knock on the Captain's door the sound of Killer and Pierre's voices as they spoke to the five men who'd cornered her reached her ears. They spoke too quietly for her to hear what they were saying, but the angry tone was unmistakeable.

With a shiver, Briseis remembered the handful of times she'd been "disciplined" by the Tennryuubito. She'd heard of Impel Down, the infamous prison that housed the world's criminals and had once thought that what those convicted felons endured could not be worse than the horrors she'd seen inflicted over the years. And even though she'd only known this crew for a few hours, something told her that none of them, not even Killer or Kidd, could enact the depravities she'd seen and endured. None of them were ... detached enough from humanity to even think about it.

It was one of those rare moments of perfect clarity she sometimes had.

She knew without question those men would be _fairly_ punished for their transgression. They might come out of it a little worse for wear, but they would live. In Mariejois they'd suffer for days if not weeks before they were killed in a gruesomely memorable way with all the other slaves of the household in attendance. Just to make sure the rest of them understood the results of defying their masters. Here, for all Killer and the Captain were obviously hard on their crew, they also made certain that the punishment fit the crime. Something in her relaxed, just a little, as she came to that realization.

Thinking about what had happened, she discovered she wasn't surprised Killer had slain the man who'd laid hands on her. It was obvious he meant to bring her, a new crewmate, harm, something that Killer apparently had a zero-tolerance policy on. No, what had surprised her was his swift and violent reaction to the situation. He'd defended _her_ without a moment of hesitation, against a long time member of the crew. It ... kind of made her feel, just a little bit, safe.

She stomped on that thought, hard. She couldn't depend on any of them to defend her all the time. It wasn't safe.

Sighing softly, she raised a hand and knocked on the door.

"Enter!" the Captain's slightly muffled voice barked.

Briseis picked up the basket and pushed the door open. "Um. Shio said you hadn't eaten yet and sent me up here with some food for you," she called hesitantly.

"Put it on the desk," Kidd ordered from the bathroom.

As she set the basket on the desk as ordered, she took a few moments to look around the room more closely than she had before. Coming out of the bathroom, Kidd found her looking over the map he'd been working on. He watched her for a long moment, wondering briefly what she was doing up here without Pierre. He'd assigned her to the man to keep her out of trouble. He knew his crew, and wouldn't trust half of them with a woman any further than he could swim. Snorting, he came up behind her and saw her trace the outline of one of the islands. "That's Thessos. Scrub-desert summer island. It's in the first half of the Grand Line," he rumbled into her ear and she jumped, nearly cracking her head on his chin.

"I'm so sorry!" she gasped as she backpedaled away from the table.

He looked at her, a frown growing on his face. "No harm in looking," he said at length. "Curiosity is good. Were you looking for a particular island?"

She shook her head. "No. Just looking. It's very well done." She flushed as she noticed Kidd was bare chested but for the leather strap that held his weapons and realized he was much more muscular than she'd originally thought. She'd assumed that a good portion of his rather evident bulk was from the coat. Darting a quick glance around the room she finally spotted the thing draped over the back of his chair.

Hmming thoughtfully, he crossed his arms and stared down at her. "Where is Pierre?"

"Um. There was a fight on deck. He said since he was watch captain he had to go stop it."

"Ah." He turned away from her and dug through the basket of food, dismissing the girl from his mind. Finding the meat pie, he grinned and pulled it out. He'd never figured out how the man did it, but Shio could make a savory pie that would melt in the mouth. He walked around the desk and settled himself into his chair only to look up from his dinner and find the girl still in the room. She was standing where he'd left her and fidgeted with the tiny basket in her hand. "Was there something else?" he grumbled sourly around a mouthful of food.

"Ah. Well. It's just ... Pierre said ... I thought ..."

"Spit it out already!" Kidd snarled, banging a fist on the desk top.

Suddenly trembling, she swallowed convulsively a few times before speaking. "P-P-Pierre s-said I shou-should ask you f-for a b-b-book."

"A ... book?" he grunted as he leaned back in his chair. "Didn't you say you couldn't read?

With some effort she threw off her alarm at the abrupt flare of Kidd's temper and nodded. "True. I can't. When I was taken, I'd just started learning in school. I was just thinking that maybe you might have something simple enough I could figure it out on my own." She paused. "Rather, Pierre told me you might have something."

"I see." He took a large bite out of his meat pie and chewed thoughtfully. "Simple, huh?" He said at last as he finished off the last bit of the pie. Rising, he gestured her over to a locked cabinet. Twisting a knob, he pulled the doors open. It was filled near to bursting with books of all shapes, colors, and sizes. She watched curiously while he flipped through them, obviously searching for something in particular. Eventually he withdrew a battered little book in nondescript brown and handed it to her. "This should do." He shrugged. "It's ... children's stories. The print is large, so that ought to help some."

Much to her surprise, his eyes seemed a little uncertain, although his expression of boredom never changed, as she took the book from his hand. Under his eyes, she flipped it open to a random page and scanned it, picking out a few handfuls of words she recognized. Closing it, she looked up at him with a tiny smile. "This is good. I should only need a little help with it. Thank you." She let out a rueful little chuckle. "I never got past "see the dog run" in school."

He huffed a little and walked back to his desk. After he plunked himself into his chair again, he reached across the desk and pulled the basket of food closer. "You can go," he said crossly.

Although Briseis twitched in dismay, she made no move to leave. While he chewed on his food he glared at her and under the heat of his gaze began to fidget again. Finally, he growled. "What?"

"Shio told me to stay and make sure you ate..." she admitted in a small voice.

Rolling his eyes, Kidd jerked a thumb at the other chairs. "Then sit down and stop fidgeting!" he snapped. Chomping irritably on his next bite, he scowled to himself. In all honesty he had to admit the cook knew him too well. If he hadn't insisted the girl make certain he ate, he probably would have just eaten a few bites and gone back to his map-work. The only thing that Shio got angry over was wasted food. He watched silently as Briseis arranged herself to her liking in one of the chairs and, settling the tiny basket on the table next to her, opened the book. Every so often she would reach over and pull something out of the basket and chew on it as she read. Or she'd take a drink out of the bottle she'd wedged between her knees. He shook his head, figuring that Shio had assumed he wouldn't share his meal with her. Which was true enough.

Outside, Killer and Pierre had finished dealing out the punishments they'd decided on and had sent the men below to await the morning when the first half would be implemented. Pierre watched them go, a hard scowl making his face even more intimidating that usual. Not that it had put the girl off any, he noted to himself. Turning on his heel, he began to amble towards Kidd's cabin, Killer easily matching his long stride. "And where are you going?" the shorter man asked.

Slowly, a grin worked its way onto Pierre's face. "To see Master Kidd," he stated as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And why would that be?" Pierre and that grin were never a good combination.

Chuckling lowly, Pierre clapped the blond on the back. "When I left the girl, she'd asked about a book. I told her the only place on the ship that had books in it was Master Kidd's cabin."

"That ... you ... Argh!" Killer growled incoherently, immediately guessing where their female crewmate was. "You really think she'd go there on her own?"

"She's stronger than you think." Pierre shrugged, unconcerned. "Nervous and uncertain of her place on our ship, of course. I could pick that up from the way she acted quite easily. But she's not really scared or fearful. Give her some time and she'll settle in."

Still muttering under his breath, Killer tapped on Kidd's door.

"What now?" Kidd bellowed acidly through the door. The pair on the other side blinked at each other before they hesitantly opened the door. They were greeted by the sight of Briseis's head bent over a book and Kidd watching her with an expression somewhere between bemused and annoyed as he devoured his dinner.

Looking up from her book, Briseis watched as the two entered and grinned at Pierre, waving the book in her hands delightedly. "This is great, Pierre!" she enthused. "I can read almost everything."

"That's good," he said dryly, amused at her subdued joy. "Come on, You should get below. My weather-sense tells me we've got a storm coming. If it does, you'd only be a liability on deck." He waited as she unwound herself from the chair and rose. Grabbing the basket that had held her food, she nodded at Kidd and Killer on her way out at Pierre's heels.

Kidd lifted himself out of his chair and stretched. "Pierre's usually not wrong about weather," he commented. Stepping outside, he stood at the rail and looked out at the sea.

Following the bigger man out, Killer glanced at his Captain out of the corner of his eye. "You gave her your brother's book?" he questioned almost idly, a quiet note of incredulity in his voice. He'd recognized the book in Briseis's hands and he alone knew how much Kidd treasured it.

Shrugging uneasily, Kidd leaned on the railing. "It ... doesn't do me much good."

"But ... *sigh* ... Never mind." Shaking his head, Killer let the matter drop. He ... understood. Looking up at the sky, he watched the stars and felt the wind. "It does feel like a storm. It'll probably hit sometime after midnight. We should get some sleep before it hits. Pierre's already warned the watch crew. I'll make sure the rest are told." Stepping away from the rail, Killer strode away from his Captain.

With a long sigh, Killer opened and shut the door to his cabin. Unclasping the chin strap he pulled off his mask and shook out his hair. The mask was something he'd gotten used to, although he doubted he'd ever like it. Taking a small rag off the tiny table in the room, he dunked it in the bowl of water there and wrung it out. He wiped his face off, thinking about the girl. the wide grin she'd given the Second had startled him. She was stronger, mentally, than he'd originally suspected. Most people who'd been slaves as long as she had usually had the spirit beaten out of them a long time ago. Somehow, she had managed to survive and that spoke rather well of her. He stared at the reflection of himself in the mirror. Then he lifted a finger and traced the lines of his face.

He knew, better than many, how the Tennryuubitos' slaves were treated.

He would see to it that this lone escapee survived.


	4. Chapter 4

**Tarnished Souls, Spilled Blood, and Endless Blue Seas**

_Disclaimer: One Piece isn't mine. But playing with the characters is so much fun I can't resist borrowing them for a while._

_A/N:_ Everlude beta'd this chapter, so hand her a big round of applause for catching some really stupid mistakes on my part. And read her fic "Conspiracy". It's awesome._  
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_Chapter Four:_

As the ship rocked violently, Briseis lay curled in her hammock, the book clutched protectively to her. Pierre was right about the storm, she thought to herself. Overhead, the little lantern Pierre had found for her to read by glowed cheerily as it rocked on its hook. Unused to laying in a hammock, the mesh underneath her had dug in to the point that she wound up tucking the thick coat into the hammock and taking a few moments to look through the other boxes of discarded stuff to find something else she could use as a blanket. Eventually she'd come across an old, heavy wool robe. Now, the back of the coat cushioned her and the front opening was wrapped and secured around the underside of the hammock; all in all she'd managed to create a warm little nest for herself.

Snuggling deeper under her "blanket", she let her body rock to and fro with the motion of the ship. Although she kept telling herself that she was no longer a slave, her body fought to remain awake, old habits learned through bitter experience dying hard. For what seemed like hours she kept waking from fitful dozes. Eventually the sound of the larger room's door slamming open brought her to sudden, gasping wakefulness. In the few moments before new memories returned she attempted to throw herself to the ground in subservience.

It was the sound of her head hitting the floor when a foot got caught in her blanket and tipped her face-first into the floor that brought a series of stomping footsteps closer to her. Against her will she groaned "Oww." This was how Kidd found her, one leg hung up on the hammock and her head and shoulders sticking out from under the privacy curtain that had been hung.

"Ha!" he barked in amusement. "Fell out, did you?"

For one long second there was no recognition in her eyes when she jerked her head up to look at him. Then relief filled her face as new memories asserted themselves. Levering herself up onto her knees, she chuckled ruefully. "Apparently so, Captain," she said.

Snorting, Kidd crossed his arms and scowled down at her. "Whatever. Come on, you're with me." He turned on his heel and thundered away from her.

Scrabbling to her feet, she she looked about for the book and scooped it up off the floor to toss into her hammock. She was forced to trot to catch up with him. "Um. Captain, sir? Where are we going?"

He paused to throw open a door and shoved her through. "Rudder's stuck," he explained tersely. "I'm checking the lines. Everyone else is up top; either fighting off the Sea King that just showed up or keeping the rigging in one piece. Might need an extra hand." Another shove sent her sprawling into a large space in the aft of the ship. "And I'm either Boss or Captain. Never call me sir," he finished with an annoyed growl. "That's for Marine officers with too much rank and not enough brains."

Getting to her feet, Briseis choked on a laugh. "Yes ss-Boss." She stopped herself in time to prevent that word from passing her lips, but again long practice aided her. The beatings she'd taken for uttering the wrong word had taught her more than just obedience. Shaking away the memory, she looked around. There was just barely enough room for Kidd to stand straight and not have his spiky hair brush the ceiling.

He was frowning as he looked along a pair of wooden beams hanging from the ceiling and ran his fingers above them."Damn. It's not the rope." He glanced at Briseis. "This is the tiller room. There are ropes that run from here up to the ship's wheel that control the rudder." Damn. He hated _explaining_ things. This was supposed to be Pierre's job. Scowling, he continued. "If the rudder won't turn, the first thing to do is check the ropes to make sure they're not broken, twisted, or pulled out of their running tracks. Since I've discovered that the problem is none of the above, it must be the rudder itself." He pointed at the rear of the room where the ropes connected to something outside the ship. "There's a window on either side of the tiller mechanism. Open it." Moving over to the closest side of the tiller he flipped the bolt that held the window closed and yanked it open none too gently. Helping people was mushy shit. He didn't have _time_ for mushy shit.

Following his orders, Briseis unlatched the indicated window and opened it, though much more cautiously than he did. Wind whipped sea spray belted her in the face when she stuck her head out the window. Biting back a hiss, she took a breath and looked down. Below her vantage the night-dark ocean boiled and frothed, and as she watched a huge scarlet fish tail curled around from the side and smacked the stern, just missing the rudder and making the ship quiver from bow to stern. Seemingly directly over head came a flash of lightning, illuminating the whole scene like it was day. With a gasp she jerked back and blinked, wide-eyed, at Kidd. He gave her a manic grin.

"This life ain't a cake-walk, you know," he jeered. "Still wanna be a pirate?"

Silent, she looked back out the window. Glancing back at Kidd, she nodded. "Still better," she muttered.

Laughing outright, he glanced around and snatched up one of several ropes that hung on the walls. With a few quick movements he had it wrapped around his waist a couple of times and tied it off. Tossing her the other end, he braced himself at his window. "Hang on to that end. Damned Sea King must have hit the rudder; it's bent. I need to get down low enough to straighten it." Looking at her, he rolled his eyes at the way she was looking at him. Like he was crazy. "Do like I did, wrap it around your waist and then brace yourself against something." He chuckled almost evilly. "I'm no lightweight."

Once she'd done as he'd directed, he hefted himself out the window and carefully climbed his way down to the bend in his rudder. He was constantly aware of the danger he was putting himself in, trusting that girl to hold him up if he lost his grip and fell. Grumbling irritably to himself, he braced himself thoroughly and then placed his hands on either side of the bent rudder. Concentrating, he pulled on the magnetic field around it, forcing the metal to bend back into its proper shape. A better job could be done later, but for now the rudder should work. He and his crew had cannibalized dozens of marine ships for the metal that had been incorporated into his ship's structure. It certainly made some repairs easier, given his ability. Grinning, he began the climb back up to the window he'd climbed out of, fighting to keep his grip each time the Sea King struck the ship.

Abruptly, the ship was struck so hard that he found himself swinging towards the water as the ship began to tilt, threatening to capsize. Growling, he wrapped one arm with the rope and reached out with the other, attempting to provide an oppositional force to right the ship. Dimly, he heard a cry when he hit the end of the rope and it jerked taut under his weight. Then he plunged under water for a few breathless moments and his magnetics failed him. But the ship began to right itself. As he swung back he slammed into the rudder and saw stars.

Grabbing on, he shook his head and looked up. The girl's dark head was looking down at him from the window he'd vaulted out of. From the grimace of pain and the spread of her arms across the opening, he knew he'd damn near yanked her out the window after him. He could imagine the bruises she'd have from fighting to hold him up. Releasing his grip on the rope he began the climb back up again.

After pulling himself in through the window, he gave an all-over shake, having been so thoroughly soaked even his hair was drooping. He untied the rope from his waist and dropped it. "Coil that up, close the windows, and get back inside. Go sit with Shio if you want. This storm isn't gonna blow itself out anytime soon." Turning on his heel, he strode back through the ship, heading for the deck.

Long moments passed while she stood there, gaping after him. Then she heaved a sigh and began picking at the knot which tied the rope around her waist. She winced a few times when the rope dug in too deeply, but a decade's worth of self-control kept her from making a sound. Breathing deeply, she slowly coiled the rope and walked over to the hook he'd yanked it off of. A whimper escaped when she lifted her arms to hang it up again. Pressing a hand to her side, she sighed when it came away bloody. The Captain was _heavy_.

Shuffling out the way she'd been led in, she moved stiffly to keep from aggravating the deep rope burns further. She pushed open the door to the dining area with one hand and made her way through the empty room to the kitchen. The ship's cook was moving around, checking the locks and latches on all his cupboards. "Hey, Shio," she said softly.

"Briseis, you're awake? Pierre tol' me that last he'd seen you were dead to the world. Come in, come in! C'n I ... wassa matter? You ain't movin' too good." Shio stepped over to her in a lightning fast movement. With one hand he grabbed one of the two chairs sliding freely about the kitchen and with the other gently pushed her into it.

"The Captain had me help him fix the rudder. He lost his grip when the ship was hit and fell. I've just got some rope burns." She tried to dismiss his concerns, but he was already poking at the area with a frown.

"By the six levels o' hell, girl! Yer bleedin! Tha's a bit worse'n a rope burn." He tsk'd at her. "I ain't the Doc, but I reck'n I c'n patch that up. Shirt off," he ordered briskly.

His manner was so casual that she only hesitated a moment before complying. She shivered in just the bra from her old outfit; the only pieces she'd kept were the underclothes, since she rather doubted a pirate crew would have anything like it on hand. She'd just have to pick up new stuff when next they reached a port. Taking the bloody shirt, Shio dumped it in the sink and ran some cold water over it. "There, tha' shou' keep the stain from settin'. Now then, lemme see what I've got fer tha'." Picking up a clean rag from the stack next to the sink, he pulled a key out of his shirt pocket and unlocked a cabinet long enough to take out a small bowl, which he then filled with water. Walking back to her, he handed her the bowl. "You hang on ta tha' whilst I clean these up." Though the ship shuddered violently from time to time and made the water slosh over the rim of the bowl, Shio managed to get the cuts clean. "Well, now. Looks like they've stopped bleedin'. I'd have Doc wrap 'em for a while thou'. No good courtin' an infection. What with all yer gonna be doin' over the next few days it'd be easy to rip 'em open again."

He left her then and went through a partially hidden door only to return with a new shirt which he handed to her. "Toss tha' on fer a bit. Yer shirt's soakin' in the sink. Ya won' be able to wear it till it dries. So you take tha' and don' worri 'bout returnin' it."

Unfolding it, Briseis found it to be a long-sleeved gray tunic, and she was delighted with the stylized waves embroidered on the sleeve cuffs. She tugged it on over her head. "It's so soft!" she exclaimed in surprise.

Shio smiled. "I got more. You keep it." He plopped himself down in the other chair and glanced up toward the deck. "Be a while 'til this storm blows itself out," he commented, echoing Kidd's earlier words. "You stick with me fer now."

They spent several hours in quiet, not talking much and listening to the sounds from the deck. About half-way through Shio smirked at the sound of cheers. "Tha' there means we'll have fresh meat fer a few weeks. They'll tie tha' Sea King carcass to the side o' the ship 'til the storm breaks. Then, once the sun comes up, we can butcher it and store it."

Finally, about an hour before dawn, the violent waves slowed then stopped. Shio got up then and set a huge pot on the stove which he then filled with water. Once the water was boiling he dumped almost a half a bag of oatmeal into it. Beckoning her over he handed her a spoon. "Stir tha' 'til it absorbs all that water," he told her. Leaving her there, he started filling a dozen other smaller bowls with various things. A bottle of honey was brought out and set next to the bowls. Then he began pulling out some of his knives, obviously anticipating carving up the beast that was being dragged behind the ship. Soon after, the thunder of boots rumbled down the stairs and he easily hefted the pot, hot as it was, and moved it to a table in the eating area. Directing her to a cupboard, he had Briseis take down stack after stack of bowls and set them next to the pot. While she did that, he moved all the other bowls to the same table.

As if on cue, a bunch of the crew burst into the room. She and Shio had their hands full for the next few minutes as they filled bowls. Then he handed her the ladle and grinned at her. "I think you've got this. I've gotta get started on the Sea King. And don't forget to talk to Doc 'bout them rope burns." Picking up his knives, he left her there. After he left, a few of the men present came up for a refill. One of them she recognized as the blond Pierre had named Kaiga. ""What's he mean about talking to Doc?" he asked while she filled his bowl.

"Just ... got a bad rope burn."

"Ah."

Pierre appeared a few minutes later. He waved her over, and she was only too glad to leave them to fill their own bowls. "Shio told me to make sure you talked to Doc. Something about rope burns?" the white-haired man asked. "Well, come with me."

He led her up to the deck and over to the giant man from earlier. "Doc!" Pierre called. "Shio wanted you to take a look at her."

Birseis looked up at the composed man. He towered above her, a veritable mountain of flesh and bone.

"What for?" he rumbled calmly. "She seems alright to me."

They turned to her. "Well?" Pierre asked.

"It's just rope burns," she told them, attempting to deflect the curious gazes.

"Ignore her, Doc." called Kidd from the quarterdeck. His furry coat was frosted white by sea salt and patches of the stuff clung to his face. He was watching them with a cool scowl. "I'm surprised her ribs aren't broken."

The huge man turned a curious look on their Captain. "Oh, so?"

"She kept me from plummeting to my death when I went to fix the rudder. I bet she's got some interesting bruises." Turning on his heel dismissively, Kidd disappeared from sight. The man known as "Doc" stared down at her inquiringly. "Explain?" he asked phlegmatically.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Briseis looked away. "It's not even bleeding anymore," she complained. "Shio cleaned it up for me."

"Doc" shared a long look with Pierre. Mere rope burns aren't supposed to _bleed,_ that look said. Neither were bruises. In one swift movement, Doc swept her up and had her tossed over his shoulder, much to the amusement of the observers and Briseis's shock. She froze, and let her body go limp. With a roll of his eyes, Pierre followed them down below. The taller man had to duck to get through the doorway into Briseis's little cubby where he promptly set her on her feet. Without waiting for her to do so, he yanked the tunic up over her head.

"Huh." he said, examining the deep burns the rope had left. "Those should be covered to keep them safe from infection," he noted. Taking hold of her shoulder, he spun her around, raising his eyebrows when he saw they curled all the way around her back. He shook his head. "Stay here." He returned a few minutes later, his hands filled with a couple rolls of gauze and a tiny ceramic pot. Silent, he scooped up a bit of the cream from the pot and smeared it over the weals. It stung quite a bit and she hissed, although she didn't move away from his hand. Then he took the gauze and wrapped it around her several times. Tying it off, he looked down at her. "Try not to get that wet. Keep 'em covered for the next couple of' days and I'll check to see how well they've healed." Nodding to Pierre, he ducked out of the space.

Pierre raised an eyebrow at her. "How exactly did that happen?" he asked.

Feeling comfortable enough to scowl up at him while she tugged the tunic back over her head. "I was trying to sleep when the Captain stomped through the crew quarters on his way to the tiller room. He used me as an anchor so he could get back up inside when he had to climb out and fix the rudder." She shrugged. "That Sea King hit the ship and he fell. I managed to brace myself before he hit the end of the rope."

"Ah. So that's why he looked like a drowned cat." Pierre chuckled at the memory of Kidd's return to the deck, soaking wet and thoroughly pissed about it. Not that it was Briseis's fault, he told himself. "Well, I know it's been a rough first night, but it's time for you to begin your training in seamanship. Come on, we'll go back up on deck." He led the way back up to the deck, and after securing a line around her, crawled up to the mainsail yardarm. Straddling it, he waited until she'd settled herself safely. "Look down," he told her. "It may not seem like very far, but a fall from even this height can be deadly. So, the first thing you need to learn is how to move about up here." Standing up, he pointed to his feet, having taken off his boots below. "Try to stand up."

She shrugged. "That's not so hard," she said, easily hopping to her feet. She turned on the ball of her foot and took a few steps and then turned again and returned. She gave Pierre a slight smirk and flipped herself forward onto her hands. She held the position a few seconds, during which time she got a full view of Pierre's horrified expression and quickly set herself onto her feet.

"Do me the favor of _never_ doing that again." he demanded in a wheezy voice. Coughing, he shook his head. "That's not something I expected you to be able to do. Sit, please. So, now I know that once you learn how to handle the sails you should be fine." He cocked his head. "Why were you taught gymnastics?"

Her expression fell. Licking her lips, she looked down at the deck. "When I was about twelve, someone who owned me thought she might be able to ... sell me off for more if she began training me for ... other things." Her voice trailed off, the angry set of her mouth and the sorrow in her eyes kept him from asking further.

Pierre closed his eyes for a long moment, that unfamiliar rage resurfacing briefly before he could shove it down again. Chuckling finally, he shook his head and gave the rope that tied them together a light tug. "Just ... no more acrobatics up here, okay?" he asked plaintively. "You may want to mention it to Killer, though. He'll be pleased you've had some sort of training, even if it wasn't in weapons." Refocusing, he waved a hand at the intricate maze of ropes all around them. "Well then, let's get started, shall we?" he said with a wry smile.

The next few days passed in a blur for Briseis. Between Pierre chasing her around on the ratlines and Killer's lessons in the evenings, by the end of the day she was exhausted. Yet despite that, she found herself unable to sleep. So as her fourth day aboard the ship slid into sunset she was barely able to stumble up to the forward deck to the waiting Second-in-Command.

Killer held himself quietly still as he watched his student weave her way toward him. He didn't like the dark circles under her eyes nor the jerky disjointedness of her movements. He'd noted it in passing the first day of her training and it had become progressively worse as the days rolled by. He was certain by now that she wasn't sleeping much, if at all. That first evening, when she'd appeared as ordered in the hold, he'd been rather gratified to learn that she knew how to fall properly. When he'd asked her about it she explained about the acrobatics she'd been forced to learn. It wasn't the first time he'd heard of such tactics, although he'd never met anyone subjected to such treatment before. After running her through a few acrobatic routines to determine her level of skill, he'd chosen to move them up to the forward deck in order to have more space. There, he began showing her various maneuvers to evade grappling with an opponent. He pushed her until they were both dripping sweat and then took her back down and gave her a set of exercises to do that would build up her strength. He'd added another weight to her cuffs and sent her to bed.

Now concerned for her health, he scowled as he considered the option of canceling her training for the evening. Shaking his head slightly, he set the thought aside. If it were truly necessary he would do so. For now, he would continue to evaluate her condition. "Begin the stretching exercises I showed you," he ordered in a monotone. Leaning against the gunwale, he crossed his arms over his chest and watched as she slowly worked her way through the movements, taking half again the amount of time it should have. "Twenty laps around the deck," he said coolly after she'd wavered to her feet. A ship was not the best of places to work on stamina, but he'd worked it out. The multiple sets of stairs she had to climb was a plus.

She'd reached the quarter-deck on her second lap when Finn, the second watch captain, crawled off the bowsprit to stand at his side. His usual white fur coat was nowhere to be seen and his bright orange mohawk was flopping to the side dejectedly. "She's not lookin' so hot, Killer-san," he muttered after watching her for a long moment.

"I am aware."

"Seein' how far you can push her?"

Killer turned his head slightly, looking down at the shorter man. "No."

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Finn scowled. "Breakin' her wouldn't be very conducive to keepin' her on, ya know."

Killer was silent as she passed them by. Her breathing was ragged and there was a glazed look to her eyes that he didn't like at all. "I do know that, Finn. However, you know as well as I do that there will be times where she will have to push herself beyond her normal limits. I am attempting to find where her current limits are."

"Ah." Slouching against the skull imbedded in the deck, Finn shook his head. "And how is sleep dep helpful in that?"

"Explain." Finn's statement startled the first mate. True, he'd noticed the girl hadn't been sleeping well, but what Finn was implying worried him.

The rigging specialist frowned. "I thought ... never mind. My bunch's had the night watches for the last two nights. Since our section of the crews' quarters is closest to her area, I've noticed that she is always awake whenever we leave or come in from watch. I'd say she hasn't slept more than a hour or two every night since she came on board."

Putting the pieces together, Killer aimed a kick in Finn's direction. "And you thought I'd _ordered_ her not to sleep," he stated. "Which would be _stupid_, Finn. It would be an accident waiting to happen. I am _not_ willing to risk the lives of the rest of the crew in order to train her up to our standards."

Finn shrugged. "It seemed logical to me. But if you didn't tell her not to sleep then why isn't she sleeping?"

Returning his attention to the girl, Killer shook his head. "I do not know."

By now Briseis was almost stumbling and as she hit the last step up to the foredeck she tripped over the stair. Lurching forward, Killer caught her before she could hit the deck. "Damn," she muttered, pushing her long black braid back over her shoulder.

After pulling her to her feet, he didn't let go to allow her continue her laps. He gave her a long look. "You have not been sleeping," he stated coldly. "Why?"

Looking away from the Second's blank mask, Briseis fisted her hands. How could she explain? Already, too much of what she'd endured was more or less public knowledge, how could she bring herself to admit the tortures one master after another had used to control her? "I ... "

Giving her a shake, Killer released her. "Don't try to avoid it. I must know. As you are now you are putting not only your life but the rest of the crew in danger. I will not tolerate it. So, you will explain."

Looking down at the deck, hot tears gathered in her eyes. "I ..." she choked. "I can't ..."

You can. You _will_." There was no give in Killer's tone.

Wobbling away from him, she turned to lean on the gunwale. She could feel the stares on her back, more than half the crew was out sunning themselves on the quarterdeck and they were sure to hear every word. Glancing at Killer, she gave in with a sob and sank to her knees. "I _can't_ sleep!" she almost wailed. Sobs wracked her as she spilled out the bitter words. "Not without being told. We ... were controlled that way. Keep us exhausted, keep us half-crazy from lack of ... lots of things. Sleep. Food. Water. Even _touch_! They kill a lot that way but ... we had no energy to fight back." She looked up at Killer, red and black -rimmed eyes both sad and angry. "I _tried_ to sleep. I just ... can't."

For a long moment, Killer stared down at her in disbelief. That ... was awful. But it did make a disturbing amount of sense. Sighing, he shook his head. "Next time tell someone if you are having such difficulties. Something will be done to mitigate them. For now ..." He shrugged. "You are in no condition to continue your training. You will sleep yourself out ... " He stopped in shock when she sagged suddenly and sprawled out on the deck. Bending down he checked and found her to be fast asleep. A low growl escaped him. That anyone could be driven to such lengths infuriated him. Scooping her limp body up, he carried her below, earning a few surprised stares as he went. Pierre was relaxing in his hammock, brushing out wet hair, when Killer strode in carrying his load and only raised a non-existent eyebrow.

"It's about time," he said. "I knew she was pushing well beyond her limits. I was wondering when she'd finally collapse."

Snorting, the First Mate settled her into her own hammock. "Has she been assigned to a watch section yet?" he asked as he came out of the cubby hole.

Pierre shook his head, freshly clean hair flying. "No. Right now she's days only. Nobody wants to trust her on night watch yet. I'd say give it another two weeks or so. Why?"

"I want her to sleep herself out. Give her a rest for few days. Keep her tasks light and simple. You can return to your usual schedule after that. It may take up to a week before she's completely recovered from the sleep deprivation."

Pierre looked surprised. "Sleep deprivation? I knew she wasn't sleeping _well_ but I didn't think it was that bad."

"Apparently, no-one's _told_ her to sleep." Killer couldn't quite keep the ice out of his tone.

"I see." It was all too easy for Pierre to put the pieces together, after spending the majority of the last four days with the girl. Understanding, he nodded. "I should have thought of it, honestly. She wouldn't even _eat_ that first day until I told her to."

Grimacing at the thought, Killer jabbed a thumb at the cubby. "I think we should keep a closer eye on her," he said. "Talk to her. Find out what else we should watch for." Turning on his heel without waiting for a reply, Killer left.

Pierre sighed softly and stared at the doorway for a long time afterward. Leaning back in his hammock, he closed his eyes. "Nothing in this world is more fearsome than human cruelty," he mused to himself at length as he drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

****Tarnished Souls, Spilled Blood, and Endless Blue Seas****

_Disclaimer: I own only Briseis and the computer I am writing this story on. All else belongs to Oda-sensei._

A/N: This chapter was simply awful to write. RL can suck royally, as I'm sure you all know. From March to June I was without Internet and by the time we got it turned on out here in the boonies, I didn't really feel much like writing. This was written over the course of several months in little snatches. And re-written twice before I had it sounding like I wanted it to. So I apologize profusely to all my loyal readers for taking so long to get this up. Lots of Love to all of you - Anon A. Mauze

_Chapter Five:_

When Briseis woke at last, it was to the weak light of late sunset filtering in through the tiny porthole high up on the wall opposite her curtained-off area and a very nasty taste in her mouth. Groaning, she fought back the desire to just roll over and go back to sleep. From the aches that tugged at her when she moved and the growling in her stomach, she knew she'd slept for far too long already. Careful of the slight throb in her head that presaged a headache, she swung her legs over the side of her hammock and sat up. Gingerly she tipped herself forward and set her feet on the floor, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she stood. Grumbling wordlessly to herself, she stumbled off in the direction of the crew's shared bathroom. She noticed foggily as she walked through the crew's quarters that there were only eight of them asleep in their hammocks and frowned. What time was it, she wondered. How long had she been asleep? Last thing she could remember was being on the foredeck with Killer-san, and even that was kind of fuzzy in her memory.

She stuck her head through the door to the bathroom and looked around. She and the crew had worked out a sort of rough courtesy regarding her use of the bathroom. Some wit had even gone so far as to put a curtain around one of the three toilets available. Right now, though, there was no-one in the bathroom so she shut and locked the door behind her, intending to take a short shower to wake herself up, After bodily necessities were taken care of, she grimaced sourly as she stripped off her clothes, not really wanting to put them back on once she was clean. Since they were pretty much the only clothes she had there wasn't much choice in the matter. As an after thought, she dug into a pocket and pulled out a couple of hair pins secured from Pierre and pinned her braided hair to the top of her head, not wanting to deal with wet hair.

Stepping in to the shower she sighed as hot water sluiced over her, easing the aches that seemed to come from her very bones. When Pierre had shown her more of the ship the second day he'd taken her down to the boiler room. Even though the ship was a sailing ship, Pierre had explained, Kidd saw no reason why they shouldn't have a few amenities. Like hot water for bathing and running toilets. The Captain had done most of the work for all this himself, since he was rather mechanically inclined.

She scrubbed off quickly since she didn't know what they were going to do with her for oversleeping so much. It was confusing her that they hadn't sent someone to wake her. Then again, now that she was more awake, she remembered more of what had happened and wondered if, maybe, she been _allowed_ to sleep in.

After drying off, she scrunched her nose at her clothes but put them on anyway. Barefoot, she slipped quietly out of the bathroom through the crew's quarters up to the deck. She squinted against the bright sun on the horizon as she pushed open the door and had to take a moment to let her eyes adjust. Then, spotting Killer talking to one of the crew, she made her way toward him. He nodded at her in acknowledgment and finished passing on his orders.

Once the other man had gone on his way Killer turned to her and silenced her with a gesture as he gave her a thorough once-over. He relaxed a hair as he saw that the dark circles were mostly gone. "Good." he said crisply, cutting her off when she opened her mouth to speak. "Much better. You've slept for nearly twenty-four hours straight. Report to Pierre, he has something for you to do."

"But," she began hesitantly, confused and a little shocked she'd been asleep so long. "I'm supposed to train with you in the evenings..."

Tilting his head, the blond nodded. "True. However, that training has been canceled for the next three days, or until you prove you can sleep a full six hours without being _told_. I will not allow you to endanger the crew in that manner again."

"Oh." she said dejectedly, hanging her head. She'd discovered in those first few days in Killer's less-than-gentle hands that she enjoyed the physical exertion. Having it taken away over something she didn't have any control over seemed too much like a punishment that she hadn't earned. Thinking about it, though, she found she couldn't really blame him for taking this course of action.

"I believe Pierre will be working with you on that problem," he continued, interrupting her thoughts with an eerily accurate reading of her state of mind. "Go talk to him. I think he's down in the eating hall." That was clearly a dismissal and she watched him as he walked away. Then she shook off the feeling that she'd disappointed him somehow with some effort and headed back down into the ship, looking for Pierre.

Briseis went down to the common room and stuck her head through the doorway. Not seeing Pierre, she frowned. "Hey, does any of you know where Pierre is?" she asked of the handful occupying the room.

The blonde Kaiga looked up from their card game. "Probably down in the hold or up in the crow's nest. If he's in the hold, he's taking inventory and it probably wouldn't be a good idea to bother him." He shrugged. "He's the only one with the patience for numbers so he acts as quartermaster for the ship. We stay out of his way down there because he gets _cranky _when we mess up his count," he explained with a small strained smile.

At the wry expression on his face, Briseis had the sudden mental image of whole fleets sunk by Pierre's "cranky".

"Anyway," Kaiga continued, "I would check the crow's nest first. He said something about lessons when he left, so I would guess he's not in the hold and is waiting for you."

Briseis gave him a long look. Then she grinned. "You're a lot smarter than you like to let on, aren't you?"

Turning back to his hand of cards, the blonde chuckled. "I _am_ the head of general crew, girlie," He laid down his hand. "Gin!" he declared triumphantly.

A flurry of curses followed her out. Reaching the deck, she tilted her head back to look up at the barrel of the crow's nest. Sure enough, Pierre's distinctive white hair was being tossed about in the wind. She shivered at the thought of the height she'd have to climb to in order to reach him. She hadn't been past the second yardarm yet and Finn had told her she likely wouldn't be allowed further until she could manage the jump from mizzen mast to main mast without someone there to catch her. The rigging specialist had had to rescue her twice and was cheerfully derisive about her lack of skill. Although it was Pierre's job to teach her sailing, he'd handed her over to Finn, saying that it would be better for the expert to teach her while he supervised the rest of the crew. Finn had been pleased to learn of her acrobatic skill and had her running back and forth along the spars, adjusting the ropes and in general making her feel like a trained monkey.

Still, she couldn't complain. He had to test her skills somehow. If the way he did so made her feel a little down, well, so what? It wasn't as if she couldn't bear having her feelings hurt.

With a sigh, she stepped up into the ratlines and carefully made her way upwards, further than she'd ever been. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some of the crew nudge each other and point at her, some grinning and obviously making bets on when she'd freeze up. Shaking her head, she continued her trek.

"Hey, bitch! Don't look down!" jeered a familiar voice, and she turned her head to see Rosto scowling at her from his place on the aft mast. Since that first night he and his cronies had left her alone, probably fearing what would happen if they tried to corner her again. Rolling her eyes and offering him a rude gesture, she reached up for the rope ladder to the crow's nest.

Pierre's droll voice met her. "Well done. You passed the first test." Raising the volume, he called out to Rosto. "Rosto, if you don't want head duty for a week, you'll mind what you say."

She heard his curses and groaned as she pulled herself over the rim. "Did you really have to do that? It's not as if you'll change his mind about me. And, really, you might just make him hate me all the more," she remarked plaintively.

Pierre shrugged that off. "This crew relies fairly heavily on respect to keep the peace. If he can't respect you, he can at least keep his mouth shut. I was only reminding him that his best course would be to completely ignore you." He closed the spyglass he held in his hand. "Now," he continued as he tucked it into a pocket. "I presume Killer told you your training with him was suspended? Good. So, take a look around and tell me what you see."

Dubious, she scanned the horizon. "Okay," she said at last. "Can I at least ask questions?"

"Of course."

"Could you tell me which direction is which?"

Casually, he pointed to starboard fore. "That's north."

"And what exactly were you wanting me to see?"

"Everything."

Refocusing on the clear sea surrounding the ship she scanned for anything out of the ordinary. "Well, there's a volcano erupting to the southeast, you can see the ash cloud. And there's an island to the west, but from the ship's heading, I'm guessing that neither is our destination."

"You guess correctly. What about the weather? The waves? Tell me what you notice."

"Um … huh. The sky is pretty much clear, even though it's windy and the waves are nowhere near what one would expect them to be for the New World." She paused, suddenly making a few mental connections. "Is that why some of the crew is cranky? The weather?"

Giving her a half-grin, Pierre nodded. "Yes. We've had uncommonly good weather for the last few days. People are nervous, wondering when the New World is going to hit us with the other shoe, so to speak. Excellent deduction." Leaning back against the mast, he waved his hand at the panorama. "What else?"

The silence stretched out for a while and finally she had to shrug. "I don't see anything else," she admitted.

Tsking, he moved up to lean on the rail. He handed her the small spyglass and pointed out to the south. Almost directly to the aft. "Take a look through that. And I was hoping you'd notice that the waves are running crossways with the wind. Looks like we'll get our weather change soon. By morning probably."

Looking down, Briseis saw what he was talking about. In spite of the stiff wind driving the ship forward, the waves were running nearly perpendicular to the ship's direction. Frowning, she shook her head. "I kinda feel sorry for whoever's at the helm, fighting that push." Stretching out the spyglass to its full length, she closed one eye and peered through, scanning the horizon to the south. "Huh," she muttered as she caught sight of what Pierre had pointed out. To their south, a low bank of what looked like fog from this distance hovered at the edge of the horizon. And in the center of it was a tiny spot of black. "Is that … a ship? I can't tell."

Clapping a hand on her shoulder, he pulled her back from her precarious lean over the rail. "Possibly. At this distance it's too far away to know for certain. It's that fog bank that interests me."

Glancing at her tutor out of the corner of her eye, Briseis pursed her lips contemplatively. "Is it just me, or is that fog bank _following_ us? And have you noticed that the ship is right at the leading edge?"

Shrugging, the tall man hopped over the side and started climbing down the ladder. "It was first reported two days ago, but the ship wasn't there. It's maintained that distance ever since. But you're right, it does seem like the ship is part of it." Pausing, he held up a hand. "Pass me back the glass, would you, then get back down to the deck."

Reluctantly, she gave up the instrument and began the long climb back down. The sun was half past the horizon now and full darkness would descend soon. Below her, the crew was changing watches, and trading jokes from the laughter she could hear. And hidden in the shadows of the aft mast was Captain Kidd's obvious bulk, his coat swaying slightly in the wind. He faced the south, a scowling sneer hardening the lines of his face.

Curious, she paused and focused on her Captain. She was pretty sure he was watching that strange ship in the fog, but at this distance she couldn't say for sure if he was worried or contemptuous. As she peered at him he turned and stomped back down to the mid-deck where he had a few words with Pierre, who'd chosen the quick descent and slid quickly down a nearby rope, and Killer. This far up, she couldn't hear what he was saying but it likely had something to do with that odd fog.

When Kidd turned and stalked off, Killer waved over a couple of the men taking up the evening watch and gestured to the south, obviously telling them to keep their eye on things. Making her way the rest of the way down, she saw Finn nod his head at her, a tiny smirk tugging at his mouth. "Not afraid of heights, are you?"

The question was obviously rhetorical, but she answered anyway. "It's no worse than being hung upside down from the top of a hundred foot wall." She shrugged. "After a few hours, you tend to forget to be scared and just enjoy the view. Although, granted it's intended for a punishment so you don't have food or water. And all the blood rushing to your head makes you dizzy." Quirking an eyebrow at him, she gave a wry half-smile. "But then, all you're doing is hanging, so in a lot of ways it's quite different from trying to maneuver in the rigging."

The mental imagery made Finn snicker in spite of the slow boil of anger at her casual admittance of what amounted to torture. He, like most of the crew, preferred to kill cleanly. Kidd may enjoy random destruction, and a lot of their reputation was based on that, but it was mostly property damage, rather than killing. Although, with who they were, there was plenty of killing going on too. Marines, even off-duty ones, never had the wits to stay out of their way, after all. Offering her a hand to make the five foot jump to the deck, he shoved the anger down. There'd be opportunity later to vent it. But damn, he had wonder how often that had happened to her that she could talk about it so calmly.

She nodded her thanks to him and trailed off in Pierre's wake, her long braid swaying.

Just after full dark descended the promised storm struck, well ahead of Pierre's prediction, and all hands were hauled out of their beds to fight the rapidly swelling waves and the near hurricane-strength winds that yanked the ship first one way, then another. From his place at the wheel, Captain Kidd bellowed his orders above the howl of the wind and grappled with the currents dragging at the rudder. On the second yardarm of the aft mast, Briseis struggled to tie off one end of the sail with rain-slick hands as Pierre worked feverishly at the other end, shortening the sails. One had already been ripped to shreds by the first blast of ice-laced wind and no one wanted to risk losing another. Finn scrambled about like a demented monkey, swinging wildly through the shrouds and ratlines and otherwise seemingly enjoying himself thoroughly.

He landed next to her and helped her pull the last knot tight, having to shout into her ear to be heard. "You're doing just fine!" Then he slid over to Pierre and said something to him, to which her mentor nodded. Moments later the he was scooting off to the aft and the white haired man was beside her, speaking directly into her ear.

"I'm needed on the foremast. There's one last tie off above you, think you can manage?"

Grinning at him despite the ragged edged fear that kept her heart lodged somewhere in her throat, she nodded and gave him a shooing motion. She said nothing, knowing that she'd never get her voice loud enough to be heard. Then as he took off, she climbed up to the third yardarm to finish securing the sails on that mast. Each wave-swell tugged her first one way then another, nearly yanking her off twice. Reaching her place, she took a handful of breaths to just cling then resolutely levered herself up onto the spar. On the other side a grinning crew member waved at her as she gathered up the sail and began the process of securing it.

Lightning split the sky almost continually to light their work well and if she weren't utterly terrified of falling to her death, she might have taken a moment to admire the stark beauty of the display of nature's power. Still, she found herself twitching slightly at every flash, wondering if the ship would be hit.

Pulling the last rope tight, Briseis scooted over to lean slightly against the mast and after a moment of thought, decided to return to the second spar, feeling a bit safer that she wouldn't be quite so high off the deck. Sliding quickly down on a handy rope, she'd just set foot on the spar when the entire rigging began to give off a strange blue-white glow. Jerking back, she stared at the deck below, finding that the whole ship was coated in that glow. Then, while she watched, some of it seemed to rise up from the Captain's wild, rain-soaked hair and coalesce into a ball which floated slowly away.

Captain Kidd looked a bit annoyed about it.

Glancing around, she saw more of those balls of light forming and despite the intensity of the storm they were trapped in, some of the crew had stopped their mad dashing about to stare just as she was. At the ends of the spars and the tops of masts small columns of flickering light rose into the darkness of the sky.

"Pretty, isn't it?" asked a voice in her ear. Yelping, she turned sharply to face the owner, surprised to find Rosto tucked firmly next to the mast, a lopsided sneer on his face. "St. Elmo's Fire. Harmless, except for the fact that it tells us we're in a very bad storm." _Idiot,_ said the look on his face.

Silently snarling to herself, Briseis fought the sudden urge to punch him. How was it her fault that she didn't know what this was? Yes, she was pig-ignorant of sailing, but damn it, she was _trying_ to learn. And he didn't seem to give a crap about that. Tucking herself in close to the mast on the other side of him, bracing herself against the howling winds, she leaned over to scream into his ear. "I don't get what your fucking problem is with me!"

"Women don't belong on ships!"

She blinked at him, speechless. That was all it was? "What the hell man! Why would you think that?"

"It's bad luck!"

Below, a bright red flare lit up the deck like it was noon, interrupting whatever Rosto had been about to say and drowning out the strange light-show. Looking down, the pair saw everyone on deck scrambling to tie ropes around themselves, Captain Kidd himself having donned the heavy shackles attached to the deck and wheel.

"Rogue wave!" the cry went up and turning their heads slowly in the direction everyone else was facing, they saw the monstrous wave rushing at their ship and exchanged a silent look of fright. A wall of water a good seventy-five feet high was lit by the lightning striking around the storm-tossed ship.

"Shit!" they exclaimed synchronously. "If the Captain can't get this bucket turned in time, we're all goners!" Rosto continued.

But in spite of the winds and waves and currents, slowly but surely, the huge ship _was_ turning.

"Fuck," muttered Rosto a moment later. "She'll never make it. We're not turning fast enough." Reaching out, he snagged the loose end of a dangling rope and used it to tie himself to the mast. Not two feet from him, Briseis struggled with her own rope, her hands shaking.

"Here it comes! Brace yourself, girlie, life's about to get interesting!" and indeed, as Briseis pulled one last knot tight, the ship began to tilt as the wave surged under them.

An eternity seemed to pass as the ship and crew fought to turn just that little bit more into the rush of water. Those in the rigging clutched at ropes and masts and spars and other people as they waited for the ship to topple.

Miraculously, the ship turned just enough that the swell of water pulled them halfway up the crest of the wave where they hung for endless seconds as the vessel fought the relentless pull of gravity and the pressure of the wave underneath it.

Gravity won.

To the dismay of the crew, their ship slowly began to slide backward.

Horror consumed them when a handful looked up at the crest of the wave and saw it tumbling over on top of them.

Eustass "Captain" Kidd looked up at monstrosity coming down on his ship, and cackled gleefully. Now, _this_ was what he'd come to the New World for! Relentlessly, he held onto the wheel, forcing his ship to turn fully into the power of the wave.

Then, it was as if all of the sky had come crashing down on one tiny ship in all the vastness of the ocean.

Spars were broken, leaving sails drooping and mangled. The foremast was snapped in half and the trio of crew manning it were tossed into the raging sea.

Rosto's voice screamed into Briseis's ear. "Take a deep breath and hold it, it's about to get worse!"

And they were underwater, the power of the sea spinning the straining ship in every direction for long, terror-stricken minutes. Briseis scrabbled at her unwelcome companion, clutching his clothes as the water yanked her off her feet. Her weight pulled him off his own perch, sending them out to be shoved first one way, then another by the currents under the wave.

Even in the murk below the surface of the water, the rapid strikes of lightning illuminated things enough for them to see a little bit. She saw the oncoming disaster before he did, terror seizing her heart.

The top of the broken mast was hurtling at them with all the force of the wave behind it.

Hauling on both their ropes she fought with the water all around her to tug them up closer to the mast. When Rosto saw it a split-second later, he climbed his way back up his rope where he clung close to the mast and watched her struggle to do the same. Grimacing, he glanced in the direction he assumed the wheel-deck was. No, the Captain would surely be upset that his little pet project was killed. Grasping her rope he gave it a mighty pull and yanked her out of the way of danger.

And then … it was past, the ship coming to rest in the open air, most of the deck underwater and only those still clinging to spars staying out of the drink. Bobbing in the water, Rosto glanced at Briseis where she clung to the mast and shook his head. Her eyes were wide open and blinking furiously while a somewhat scary rictus grin stretched her lips and her breath came far too fast. Her fingers opened and closed spasmodically on the rope securing her to the spar.

She twitched as something seemed to occur to her and fumbled for a few minutes before getting the rope off and dropping into the water from her perch on the upraised spar. Swimming awkwardly over to the deck, she cast about for the location of the wheel, then dove beneath the waves.

Still shackled to the wheel and deck was Eustace Kidd, fully submerged, and he was well aware of his current situation. His face remained calm, his eyes blinking slowly behind his goggles as he surveyed his ship in the murky light beneath the waves. Only his white-knuckled grip on the wheel belied his concern. Unable to do much else, his thoughts wandered to the condition of his stateroom. There was surely loose food splattered all over his wall. Grimacing, he thought about his maps and their likely waterlogged state. He'd have to redraw every map he'd left out, damn it. Then his non-existent eyebrow twitched when it occurred to him that the kitchen probably looked worse. Not everything there was bolted to the deck the way it was in his cabin.

In front of him, a curtain of blond hair appeared and a tiny part of him sighed in relief. He couldn't hold his breath forever, after all. This was part of the plan they'd decided on the first time he'd been knocked off the ship after gaining his powers. He would never allow another to man the wheel in such weather, so they knew something would have to be done. It was only Killer's off-hand quip that maybe he should just chain himself to the deck that gave them the answer. Of course, he was pretty certain that Killer had never intended him to take the comment seriously.

His blonde First-mate calmly held up the key to the cuffs and made quick work of freeing his arms from the shackles. As the smaller man ducked down to work on the ones on his legs, another form swam into his field of vision. Short, he mused, slender. And … a familiar long braid of dark hair trailed in the water behind. The girl, he thought with a minute scowl. What the hell was she _doing_? Although this did answer one question that had been plaguing him for the last few days. She _could_ swim. And swam quite well, considering the storm he knew was still whipping the water into a frenzy.

When he glowered at her, she waved cheekily at him.

Abruptly, he was sinking and swiftly Killer was there beside him, pulling one arm over his shoulders and kicking for the surface. A bare moment later, Briseis was there under his other arm and adding her meager strength to the effort to get him to the surface. He briefly thought about being annoyed about it but then he was restraining the urge to gasp like a landed fish as he broke the surface.

The pair helped him over to the ship where willing hands pulled their resident "hammer" up out of the water.

Amazingly, their Captain still wore his fur coat, though it was much abused and soggy from its time under water.

Around them the storm still raged, though not as violently as before and once the Captain was out of the water it was a matter of moments for him to right the ship and haul the half-drowned members of the crew back on board.

Once there, they took stock.

Three spars were busted, one on the aft mast and two more on the main mast. The top half of the foremast was just plain _gone_, and two of the crew who'd been tied to it had yet to be recovered. Sails everywhere were torn and most of the gunwhale on the quarterdeck had been ripped off.

Through all this, Briseis stood at the captain's elbow, her expression earnest and wide-eyed. Once or twice she practically bounced in place and finally he turned his attention to her.

"What?" he growled.

Slowly, a grin worked its way across her face. A light built in her eyes and suddenly she was bouncing on her toes. "That – was _so_ much fun! Can we do it again?" Laughter burst out of her and she spun around, her arms out wide, like a kid suddenly given free reign in a candy store. "I've never felt so … alive! I mean, sure I could have died, but … my life was in my _own_ hands for once. It was … incredible! I felt so … free." She looked up at him through eyes bright with fierce joy. "I want to feel that again."

A matching slow, but more maniacal, grin split Kidd's face. Crossing his arms across his chest he nodded. "You will, as long as you stick with us. Now, there's still work to be done, and this storm isn't over, so get back up there and get to work."

"Aye-aye, Captain!" she replied with a mock salute and a wide smile. Watching her race back up into the rigging, Kidd allowed his expression to become more maliciously satisfied and he turned the look on his Second. "Still think it's a crazy idea?"

Shaking his head, Killer eyed the girl and shrugged. "Time will tell. So far, I admit she is promising."

Kidd began to laugh and smacked his old friend on the shoulder. The blonde barely staggered under the heavy blow and he waited until Kidd had returned to the wheel to rub the shoulder so struck. Sometimes Kidd could forget how strong he was, he mused to himself. Taking a last look about the deck he strode off to attend to the most immediately necessary of repairs.

A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_A_

_**Reviews, pretty please?**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Tarnished Souls, Spilled Blood, and Endless Blue Seas**

_Disclaimer: I own only Briseis and the computer I am writing this story on. All else belongs to Oda-sensei._

_A/N: I'm very sorry it took so long to get this out. This chapter, and the next few, are ones I didn't really have much planned for. It takes me longer to write when I'm not sure of what I'm going to be writing. Planning out __**what**__ happens is easy, writing out __**how**__ it happens is a bit harder when even you aren't sure about how things are supposed to go. That said, I know this is a bit shorter than the other chapters but I hope it doesn't disappoint. _

_Also, in-depth reviews are a nice impetus to write more, so such reviews will be much appreciated while flamers will be strung up on hooks so I can troll for sharks. At least then they'll be useful._

_Chapter Six:_

An exhausting twenty-four hours later, the almost crippled ship limped into a calm harbor surrounded by the curving arms of an island. Warily, the crew assembled on deck eyed the seemingly deserted, lush tropical island and it's inviting, pristine sandy beach with the suspicious eyes of jaded experience. Tension radiated from every body, and hands never strayed too far from weapons. Everyone was lightly crusted with dried salt, and little flakes of it would drift down with each movement as they went about their tasks. Many faces were drawn taut with bone-deep tiredness after two sleepless nights of fighting the sea to bring the ship through the storm safely.

Sitting on the stairs leading up to the quarterdeck, Briseis tended to a torn sail, and watched as the island drew nearer. Her experience was limited, she knew, but her various masters had dragged her around both the Grand Line and New World often enough that she was aware that not everything was as it seemed to be. For example, the lovely, innocent-looking island before them could be home to carnivorous plants or giant, acid-spitting crocodiles. After a moment she leaned toward Kaiga and asked "Is it just me or are you creeped out by that place too?" He looked down at her up-turned face and only nodded.

From the front they heard Kidd grunt. "Well, we won't get this bucket patched back together by standing on the deck like statues. We ought to beach her and check the seams while we're at it." Turning toward Killer, he jerked his head at the sole long boat secured to the deck. "Take me to shore. I'll bring her in."

While Killer and a couple of others readied the boat the rest of them began cleaning up the deck, coiling and stowing the ropes scattered everywhere and the bits of torn sail in the process of mending. Briseis watched silently while the small rowboat slid toward shore, her hands busily patching another rent in sailcloth under Pierre's direction. "So, what happens now?" she asked as the little boat finally hit the shore and the pair jumped out to pull it out of the water.

"Normally we wait until we reach a port to dry dock the ship," he replied in his bland voice. "That storm was a rough one, so Master Kidd wants to make certain the ship is in running order. For the next few days we'll be going over every inch of the ship, inside and out, to check for damage, and repairing it where necessary." He shrugged and moved on to the next tear in sailcloth. She watched him in near awe at the way his hefty needle flickered in and out, taking less than half the time that she would. "At very least the storm flung us to the island we were aiming for. I'd hate to think of being stuck like this on an island not registering on the Log Post."

"That reminds me." Briseis said, jumping on the thought that had been pestering her since the first time she'd seen the compass on the Captain's wrist. "I know the purpose of the Log Post, but why does Captain Kidd's have _three_ on it?"

Pierre started, giving her a surprised look. Then he chuckled ruefully. "I keep forgetting how new you are to all this. You fit in well enough so far that it hasn't really occurred to me just how much you might not know. If you understand the traditional Log Post then I'll skip that and move on. Master Kidd's Log Post operates the same way the traditional one does, with each needle pointing to a different island, but each needle on the compasses shakes at different speeds. The more it shakes, the more dangerous the island it's pointing to is."

"Ah, I see." Picking out an awkward stitch, she was almost flung to the deck when the whole ship gave a great lurch. "Shit!" she exclaimed, righting herself. Securing her needle in the sailcloth, she stood and strode over to look toward shore, Pierre dropping his work and following her to watch her reaction. He'd seen Master Kidd do this several times but it was always fun to watch some new crew member's face when it really struck them just how strong Kidd was.

She pushed her way to the front of the small crowd lining the foredeck, feeling Pierre's presence behind her and noting how it made most of the crew melt out of his way. And hers by default. With a wry twist of her lips she wondered how long it would take these people to accuse her of boot licking and other, less pleasant, things. The way she was followed around by one of the upper level crew at all times was going to get old fast. She was going to have to stand on her own merit eventually, she knew, even as a part of her was grateful for the continued watchful eye.

Leaning against the figurehead, that gigantic skull embedded in the deck she found ever more amusing each time she looked at it, she shaded her eyes and looked at the pair of tiny-seeming figures on the beach. The Captain had thrown off his coat and stood in a braced stance, both arms stretched out toward the ship with palms up and held flat.

Behind him stood Killer, back to the approaching ship, facing the unknown dangers of the lush forest in front of him, obviously guarding Kidd's back while he was otherwise occupied.

Then she looked down and gasped in wonder. The _entire ship_ was hovering at least three yards out of the water.

For long moments she was utterly silent, taking in the incredible feat Kidd's power made possible. Then, almost too quietly to be heard, she said "He's an amazing man, isn't he?"

Behind her, Pierre smiled, ever so slightly. Awed wonder. He'd seen and heard it from others, though never in reference to Kidd, who mostly inspired abject terror and/or grudging respect. He chalked it up to her being a girl and having a different way of thinking about things. "Yes, he is," he replied just as softly. "Why do you think I follow him? He's worth it." He tsked. "Never let his reputation fool you. Yes, he has _earned_ his reputation for violence, and he detests cowards and the weak-willed above all else, but under that surface is a cunning and insightful mind." Stepping up beside her he leaned on the gunwale, the deck suddenly suspiciously empty of everyone but them. Letting a few precious minutes go by without a word, he watched as the ship made it's way toward shore. "Come on," he said at last. "Master Kidd's going to turn the ship on it's side when he sets it down so we can check over the hull while we're stuck here fixing the storm damage. We should make sure everything's strapped down and stowed for it." Turning from the sight he headed off to do just that.

"You know," Briseis said as she stretched her legs to keep up with the taller man. "I've been wondering. Does the ship have a name? Everyone talks about it but never refers to it by a name."

He chuckled. "Hell's Belle."

Snickering, she shook her head. "Melodramatic, much?"

"Why, yes," he responded drolly. "Yes, indeed. He _does _have a rather wide streak of that." Chuckling mirthlessly, he turned a grin on her. "Just a few weeks ago he _crucified_ another group of pirates for being too cowardly to have come to this sea in the first place."

Blinking, she processed that mental image. "Um, … urk. Messy picture."

His grin faltering, he cocked his head at her. "You're not bothered by it? Most people would be."

Rolling her eyes, she gestured to herself. "Hello. Grew up a slave. I've seen things as bad as that, and not a few that were worse. One day I may get drunk enough to tell you about the Coliseum and the fights there." She shivered. "There's a tiny part of me that is grateful I was pretty enough for _other_ work, as humiliatingly distasteful as it was. Few of the gladiator-slaves survived more than a year. Actually, most died within a few weeks." Shrugging, she bent down to shut and lock an equipment locker. "Although I did hear the Boa sisters lasted almost three years before Fisher Tiger freed them during his little rampage."

Stopping, Pierre turned fixed her with an unreadable look, his stitch covered mouth turning down in a frown. "The Boa sisters? As in Boa Hancock? The Shichibukai?"

"Yes. I thought everyone knew. It's common enough knowledge up in Marie Jois," she replied as she tied off a dangling rope.

"Hmm. Interesting that she's still working for them." Continuing his walk around the ship he pointed out little things and showed her how to secure them properly. Upon reaching the kitchen, he waved her in ahead of him. "Shio. The Captain is going to beach the ship. You might want to make sure everything in here is ready."

"I 'ear ya." the cook replied, exiting the pantry the non-perishable foods were kept in. "I figgered 'e'd be doin' that. Been workin' on it." He grinned at Briseis as he double checked the locks on the rest of his cupboards. "Shouldn' ya be gettin' yon missy to shore? Captain ain't likely to make 'ceptions fer newcomers, even girls." Quickly scooping up the half-dozen knives he'd left on the counter, Shio thrust them into his belt and all but shoved the other two out before he turned and locked the doors. "Now then, we oughta get goin' afore it's too late," he said almost cheerfully.

Apprehensive, Briseis flicked her eyes between them as the three of them walked up to the main deck. Finally, when they stepped out into the sunshine, she shook her head and and asked "Before it's too late for what?"

Hopping up onto the gunwale, Shio looked down at her and smirked and then dove off into the calm waters of the harbor. Tapping her shoulder, Pierre jabbed his thumb at the beach, where the rest of the crew was just beginning to reach the shore. "Captain has a habit of turning the ship sideways and shaking it," he told her. "We _swim_ to shore on this ship."

She couldn't help it. She giggled at the mental image that invoked. "Like a kid with a tinker toy," she laughed. For a moment he could only blink in astonishment. Then he scowled and muttered at her "Never repeat that to his face. I'd hate to have wasted all this time training you."

Offering her a hand up, he stepped up onto the gunwale and just as they were about to leap off, the ship gave a sudden jerk and they were thrown into the water. When they surfaced, he coughed and wiped water off his face, looking away from the glower that crossed her face at the raucous laughter coming from shore. "Umm. Did I mention he also has a habit of dumping the last person off?"

Growling incomprehensibly to herself, she splashed an armful of water at him and turned to begin the swim to shore, resolutely ignoring the zombie-man's chuckles.

Standing where he was at the tidal edge, the surging water caressed the toes of Captain Kidd's boots as they reached their peak and receded, incidentally also soaking the hem of his fur coat. Not that he noticed. The majority of his attention was fixed on getting his ship safely to shore, although he spared a vicious grin for the sight of the newbie and Pierre getting dumped off when he shook the ship. Glancing back at his Second he nodded and the man relaxed his tense pose. "Get the guys organized and set up camp," he told the other man through gritted teeth as he strained to hold the ship. "I get the feeling we'll be here for a few days."

Without a word of acknowledgement, the blond stalked over to where the first of the crew were starting to reach shore and quietly began directing the men as they finished shaking themselves off. Afterward, the first bunch trotted off into the surrounding forest, coming back with their arms laden with large sticks and small logs just as the second bunch finished building a handful of fire pits. Also finally reaching shore were the last few stragglers, including Briseis, Pierre, and Shio.

From Captain Kidd's side of the beach came a muffled _boom_ and the sand shivered under their feet. "Hmph," came the rumble from Kidd as he began walking their way. "So, that's done. We'll get started on her tomorrow. Tonight, we rest up and eat well." A rousing cheer met his declaration and suddenly there was a great deal of seemingly pointless activity around the fire pits as the crew rushed around. A handful headed for the ship and disappeared, steering clear of the Captain as they passed him. Many more rushed into the trees, crowing about fresh meat. The remaining few continued setting up the scanty camp, taking several of the large canvas tents that a few intelligent souls had hauled to shore with them and erecting them in a half-circle around the largest fire pit.

With a gusty sigh, Kidd flopped down on the sand under the largest tent, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace. Pulling the ship in like that always took it out of him, but the beach here had a very shallow slope and he'd had to lift the ship for longer than he'd ever managed before. There was an ache just beginning to pulse in his temples, a sign he had come to recognize as an indicator that he was pushing his powers a little too far. Pushing off his coat he let it fall to the ground behind him, the heat of the day was full on and he was sweltering, little drops of sweat beading his brow and trickling down his neck. The loud cracking sound of a tree falling over came from the woods and he couldn't contain the wince as the high-pitched _creak _stabbed right though his ears into his brain.

Sighing again, he pulled off his goggles, easing one source of pressure, and wished for a bucketful of ice to stick his head in. Not that it would do much good, he knew. So far, the only thing that had ever cured these over-extension headaches was time.

At least the crew knew to stay out of his way when he had one.

For a while he watched as his crew scurried around, then resignedly lay back on his coat and closed his eyes. At least, he grumbled to himself, it was shady here. Folding his arms behind his head, he let himself relax a little.

Darkness took him.

He was woken several hours later, if the position of the sun was right, by a slight nudge to his booted feet. "What?" he growled unpleasantly. His headache still pulsed in his temples, a steady, painful drumbeat that kept rhythm with his heart.

"Food's ready, if you're hungry, Boss." Killer replied drolly.

Since the smell of cooked food had already reached his nose, Kidd thought that was a redundant comment. Killer knew how good his sense of smell was. Grumbling incoherently, Kidd pushed himself up and looked around. He restrained a wince when he saw the group returning from the ship, the instruments in their hands promising a rowdy night. Levering himself up, he walked out of the tent into the light of sunset. In silence, he retrieved a plate of food and a mug of beer and retreated to the tree line, Killer a cool presence at his back.

"Headache?" his Second asked quietly.

"Hnng. Yes." He gave the man a long glower. That was obvious, and Killer knew it.

"Want me to tell them to keep it down?"

"Nah. I'm far enough away here it shouldn't be a problem. It's only when the noise is right in my ears that it's a concern. Let them have their fun. Tomorrow won't be." Lifting his mug he took a long swallow before tearing into his food.

Nodding his understanding, Killer stepped back and returned to the tents and fires. Grabbing a plate himself, he started loading up with his favorites.

"What's wrong with the Captain?"

Pausing in his hunt for the bowl that had his dipping sauce in it, Killer looked to the side and met curious blue eyes. Shrugging, he found the sauce and spooned some of it onto his meat. "Headache," he replied after a moment. "I wouldn't go near him right now."

"Ah. Ok." Once he'd put the spoon down she reached for it.

"You may not like that. It's very spicy," he warned as he moved down the long tables that had been set up for the food.

With a grin and a shrug, she dumped a small spoonful in the middle of her plate. "Never hurts to try it. If I find I don't like it then I just won't eat it again."

"Very practical."

"I take it medicine doesn't help any?"

"No."

The pair stepped away from the table and after a moment's thought, Briseis followed the Second to the log that had been hauled out of the forest for seating. Over on the other side of the fire the musically inclined crew members were tuning their instruments in between bites of food and drinks from their mugs. She wondered what kind of music they played then dismissed it from her mind. Settling on the ground next to Pierre's seat on the log she stared at the fire while she ate.

Finally, she glanced up at Killer and cocked her head to the side. "What's he tried anyway?"

Raising an unseen brow at her continued interest, he swallowed his mouthful of food and answered. "Most standard pain killers. Seems like the only thing that works is time."

"Hmm."

While she asked nothing further, Killer watched her throw glances at Kidd out of the corner of her eye, a thoughtful expression on her face, the rest of the evening. Eventually, she got up, grabbed her plate and mug and walked over the the tubs waiting for the dishes to dump her plate in. He followed her as she walked over to the barrels with the beer and water in them and refilled her mug with water. Then grabbing another one she filled it with beer and headed over the the Captain. Shrugging, he went back to watching the rest of the crew. It was her funeral.


	7. Chapter 7

**Tarnished Souls, Spilled Blood, and Endless Blue Seas**

_Disclaimer: I own only Briseis and the computer this is written on. All else belongs to Oda-sensei._

_A/N: A little short compared to earlier chapters but I hope you enjoy as much as the others. Many thanks to those who reviewed. A special Thank You to **Sarin-Sama** and **Lily Noir** for their reviews, which gave me the encouragement to get this chapter finished. Also, my beta, Everlude hasn't seen this yet, so I may be reposting in a day or two once she gets around to proofing it for me.  
><em>

_Chapter Seven:_

Leaning against a tree in the shadows of the forest edge, Kidd kept his back to the fires that burned merrily on the beach. One long muscular leg was stretched out before him, the other kept bent so he could rest his arm on it. With an inaudible sigh he rubbed his temples in the vain hope it would assuage at least some of the headache that had taken up residence behind his eyes.

"Um … Captain? I brought you a beer," said a quiet voice to his right.

Well, damn, he thought, I _must_ be out if it if I didn't hear her come up. "Just set it down and go away," he growled sourly.

The mug made its appearance at his elbow. He waited for some sound to tell him she was gone and when he heard none he glanced in the direction her voice had come from.

She'd settled herself an arms-length from him, her bare feet digging into the sand as she stared out to sea. As he watched she fiddled with her mug for a moment before setting it aside. "So … Killer-san told me about the headache. Is there … well, I thought … maybe I could try to help?" Her voice was so soft it was barely more than a whisper and he almost missed what she'd said.

With several comebacks in his mind, he grinned, although there was little mirth in it. Chuckling, he looked over at her and replied "We~ll, they do say exercise is the best cure for anything so if you're offering..." Deliberately he let the sentence hang, his implications clear. He was certain that wasn't what she was talking about but … he wanted to see her expression.

He wasn't expecting her to nearly flee, and his grin faded when every muscle in her body tensed and real fear of him crawled across her face. If he made so much as a move in her direction, she would be halfway down the beach before he could even get up. Shaking his head, he looked away.

"No! No, that's not … I just thought … "

Rolling his eyes, he rubbed his temples again. "Ah, hell. Relax. I wouldn't ask that of you. Shit, I'm not a _total_ asshole. Fuck. Look, just tell me what the fuck you were thinking of or go the hell away, would you?" He _knew_ he sounded like a whiny child, but _damn_ these headaches, somehow they had a way of reducing him to a four-year-old. A _bratty_ four-year-old.

Silence reigned for a while and he'd begun to think she'd gone when she spoke again.

"You know … what I was," she said as she poked at the sand beneath her toes. "Practically speaking, I know neither you nor most of the crew would hurt me that way. Still, some … reactions are hard to suppress. I know you were mostly joking and I shouldn't have reacted like that." Taking in a deep breath she continued. "I … was taught many things, in order make me more … desirable. Dance and acrobatics and I can play the flute reasonably well. One of my owners served one of the Gorosei, and he often had intense tension headaches. When he bought me from another Noble, he made me learn some massage. I just thought that it might help you. I could try at least, and if it doesn't help any, well … no harm done right?"

"What the fuck ever. Knock yourself out. I'm not about to refuse anything that might help." Picking up the beer she'd brought him, he took a long gulp, easily draining it in three swallows.

"Ok. Um … I need to be behind you. Could you lean forward?" Still hesitant, not really trusting that his comment was entirely a joke, she slid in behind him, kneeling between him and the tree. Flexing her fingers, she absently wished she had some hot water and stones to use. Still, her fingers should be enough for now, and if he decided that it worked she could acquire the other things later.

Carefully placing just the tips of her fingers on his neck near his hair line she began a feather-light rub, curling her fingers like a cat stretching its claws. "Huh," she mused after a few minutes as she worked her way down his neck. "No wonder you've got a headache. You're all knotted up and hard as a rock back here."

Grunting, Kidd shrugged. He could feel some of the pressure at his temples easing and that did lessen the headache some. "These only come when I've pushed my power too far," he admitted roughly, resisting the urge to shake his head and disturb her work.

"Even so … being this wound up doesn't help any. If anything it can make it worse." Moving down to his shoulders, she shrugged as she worked. "I wish I had some stones, honestly. I'm not sure my hands alone will be enough to loosen all this up."

"Hnn." Lapsing into comfortable silence, Kidd closed his eyes, wondering what he could offer her to get her to do this more often. It was actually working. And barring brothel girls, which as far as he was concerned didn't count, the last time a woman'd had her hands on him like this was his mother. It was … nice.

Down by the fires, Pierre and Killer were keeping a loose eye on the pair. Finally, Pierre turned away. "Huh. Well I'll be damned," he said. "Took a lot of guts on her part to do that. She's … kind of scared of the Boss." Catching Killer glance his way he elaborated. "Not physical violence, she's used to that. More of his temper. She doesn't know what'll set him off, and the stories some of the crew tell … well, she prefers to stay out of his way." Most of the time. Grinning, Pierre thought back to her declaration to Kidd a couple of days ago. It had been the first time she'd really seemed to live rather than just survive.

"She'll learn," Killer grunted, shaking his head. "Kidd's not the type to turn down aid offered freely. Too smart for that. If anything, now that she's shown herself willing, he'll make use of that skill more often." Knowing the kind of life she'd come from, Killer could understand her reasons for offering, although he wasn't about to voice them out loud. Kidd was the Captain, her "owner", and although she was slowly losing the manic fear of punishment for the slightest transgression that the Tennryuubito instilled in all their slaves, she was more than willing to use any skill in her repertoire to keep his temper cool, barring the one. "Leave them be. Obviously what she's doing is helping his headache or he would have pushed her away by now." Deliberately he turned his back and turned his attention to his food.

Slowly, Kidd began to relax as his headache receded to a much more tolerable level. "You're pretty good at this," he said finally, resting his chin in his palm.

For a long time she was silent, although her fingers never stopped moving along his neck. At last, she sighed. "It was learn to be good or be killed, and since I really didn't want to die yet, I learned." He felt her shrug. "Although, to be honest, I'm not really sure why. Gods know I've got more than enough reasons to _want_ to die." Letting her hands fall away, she slid out from behind him and sat next to him with her arms wrapped around her knees. Deliberately she didn't look at him, keeping her gaze focused on the barely discernible tree line at the other end of the cove. "I just … couldn't let myself. And believe me, there were a lot of times I wanted to."

He was no expert on psychology, but Kidd could feel the raw edges of that statement. "I think that it's not so hard to figure out," he said, glancing down at her out of the corner of his eye. "I saw it when I first picked you up. You're _angry_, and you want someone to _pay_ for your pain." Smirking he continued. "Dying isn't exactly conducive to getting revenge," he informed her drolly. He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. "And don't try to tell me you don't want revenge."

"I wasn't going to deny it," she said sullenly after a long silence. "It's just … I don't know who … to seek revenge from. I … don't remember much."

"Tell me." Cocking his head, he looked down at her, most of his usual arrogant irritation gone from his face and voice. "There aren't that many pirates in the slave trade, and most of those who are work for one of the Shichibukai."

The silence grew long and thick, and he'd almost given up on getting an answer when she sighed and began to speak.

"It was … late fall, just after first frost on my home island. Papa told me he was going to take me with him, so I could pick out Mama's birthday present. I remember a lot of laughter and fun. Then … there was shouting and screaming and Papa locked me up in a closet, told me not to make any sound. That's where my memory has a big blank spot. I don't remember exactly how I got aboard the pirate ship with chains on, I just woke up and suddenly Papa was gone and I was on a different ship. I remember there were a bunch of other people locked up with me although I didn't recognize any of them. I remember lots of crying and calling for Papa and rough seas. I remember being cold and wet most of the time too."

"Do you remember any of the pirates?"

"Just two. The cell guards never came in, so the only ones I remember seeing was the one that fed us and … I don't really know. I guess he could have been the Captain. He was so different from everyone else, that's why I remember him so well. He was tall, really tall, and walked kind of funny. He was always wearing sunglasses, even in the hold where we were. And a coat made of … feathers, I think. They were pink."

"Doflamingo," Kidd hissed in recognition. Catching sight of her surprised expression he elaborated. "Donquiote Doflamingo. He's the Shichibukai who controls most of the slave trade. _Nasty_ piece of work." Whistling silently, he shook his head. "Well, now. This is a rather interesting development. You've got a long way to go if you want him." Loosing a malicious chuckle he met her surprised look with a grin that most would have run from. "And believe me, someday you _will_ kill him."

For the moment, Briseis stared out into the darkness, her heart beating fast with conflicting emotions.

A name. She finally had a name to go with the face.

The little girl in her, the last remnants she clung to of who she used to be, whimpered at the remembrance of her terror at that man's hands.

Newer, and growing in strength, was the young woman who had suffered, and survived, in a place where pain was as much a kind of coin as sex or beri. Anger warred with fear.

It was the memory of the World Nobles' mocking laughter at her agonized screaming that broke the stand-off within her. They would pay, someday. This … _Doflamingo_ would pay.

And the rage that had boiled restlessly, quietly, in the darkest part of her heart broke free at last.

Beside her, Kidd watched with hidden glee, sensing the shattering of the internal chains that had held her back.

Briseis turned to him abruptly, and he got a sudden thrill at the scowl that twisted her mouth and the fire that darkened her blue eyes to indigo. "Tell me how," she demanded, her voice not quite reaching the deep growl he could.

Flicking a pebble off his knee, he matched her scowl with his own grin. "Train," he told her bluntly. "Train like you expect to have to kill him tomorrow. Past pain, past exhaustion, push yourself to your limits. And when you reach them, break through them." He pointed toward the fires on the beach. "Learn everything you can from them. Rosto can wing a diving falcon. Kaiga and Doc know poisons. Killer is already teaching you hand-to-hand and blades. Ask Pierre to show you explosives. Train and learn, and someday you will be ready to kill him." Shutting his mouth, Kidd scowled. He'd made a _speech_, damnitall.

Long minutes of silence passed as the pair stared at each other, then Briseis took in a deep breath and rose gracefully to her feet, her nearly forgotten mug dangling from a finger. Meeting Kidd's intense gaze, she nodded once and turned on her heel, her bare feet silently taking her toward the fire.

Kidd watched her go, a small, pleased smirk curling the ends of his lips up.

Rising from his place at the fire, Killer nodded at Briseis when she rejoined the rest of them. Dumping his plate in the bin, he looked around. "Who's got dish duty?" he asked of the assembled crew. Three hands waved at him from the back. "Get to it," he told them. "First watch, take your places. Second, get some sleep. The rest of you, don't stay up too late. There's a great deal of work to be done tomorrow." Striding out of the firelight, he disappeared into the darkness.

Settling herself next to Pierre, Briseis looked into the fire. Although he glanced curiously at her, the zombie-like man held his tongue. She seemed lost in thoughts that seemed less than entirely pleasant.

He was right.

She poked cautiously at the new-found rage that burned at her, unaccustomed to the sense of freedom she got from allowing herself such anger. Always before she had to strangle her anger, lest she do something that would cost her her life. Or her friends lives. Now, she could let it loose. That frightened her. The rage, the anger; it felt like a knife that had been lodged in her heart for far too long was finally pulling free and it hurt so much to let the poison that had festered there out.

With a soft sigh, she came to understand that if she allowed this, she would never be the same. That poison of rage and hate would forever change her.

Glancing around a the merry-making of the crew around her, she came to her decision. These people would never condemn her for it. They reveled, thrived, in giving free reign to their emotions. Even rage and hate. And she nodded, her mind made up.

"Pierre?" she called quietly.

"Hmm," he replied around a mouthful of beer.

"The Captain ... when we were talking ... he suggested I ask you to teach me something."

Chuckling, he flung an arm around her shoulders, surprised when she didn't flinch as she would before. That must have been some conversation, he mused to himself. "What would that be?"

"He told me you were the ship expert on explosives."

Ah. Well, that was interesting. "True enough. Why would you want to learn that though?"

Shrugging, she looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow. "It's a tool, nothing more. I don't want to be an expert like you, just know enough to make use of it if the situation arises. There's ... someone I'm going to kill." she chuckled mirthlessly at the shock that crossed his face. "Considering who it is, it will be nice to have as many tools at my disposal as possible."

"This is quite a shift." he commented. "I take it you two talked about more than just his headache?" At her nod, he continued. "A tool, huh?"

The smile she gave him was devoid of any real happiness. "Anything is a tool if it's used right. Try scrubbing the marble floor of a thousand square foot room with a toothbrush."

Rubbing his chin, Pierre thought for a long moment. It certainly couldn't hurt her to have the basics, he supposed. "Alright," he said. "Once you have been put on a watch rotation I'll start teaching you explosives. I admit some curiosity. Who is it you want to kill?"

"Doflamingo."

Unsurprised, given he knew who ran the slave trade, he nodded. "You've got a long way to go before you're ready to take on him."

"Captain said the same thing."

"He's a smart man, for all he tries to hide it." Shaking himself, Pierre added "Give it another week or so and I'll bet money you'll be in a watch section. After that, I'll teach you anything I can. It would be ... amusing ... to see that man brought low by one he sold as a slave." Standing and stretching, he held out a hand to her. "We should get some sleep. Tomorrow will start early and you'll want all the sleep you can get. Speaking of, how are you holding up? It's been a long few days with little sleep since you woke from your collapse."

"I'm ... okay. Tired, yes, but I'm used to working while tired." She shrugged as she reached up to take his hand. "The few times I got an hour or two of sleep during that storm I was so exhausted I just dropped right off."

"Good." He guided her into one of the tents and gave her a push toward the middle. "Go on, get some sleep. The rest of this rabble will be up for a while yet."

With her eyes on Pierre she didn't see the object she tripped over as she entered moved toward the back. Grumbling quietly she untangled her feet from it and blinked as recognition came to her. It was the Captain's coat. "Um, Pierre? Should I take this to Captain Kidd?" she asked, holding it up for the other to see.

"Nah. If he'd wanted it he would have taken it with him." Glancing at her, he shrugged. "If you don't want to sleep on the sand go ahead and use it. He won't mind ... much. Just keep the sand out of the inside. He hates getting sand inside his clothes."

"Ooka-ay." She looked at the coat in her hand, wondering if the Captain would be as sanguine about her using it as Pierre claimed. He was hardly seen without it, although given how hot this island was she understood why he'd taken it off. Finally she decided to roll it up and use it for a pillow. At least then, if he wanted it back, it would be easy to return it to him. Settling herself on the sand, Briseis laid her head on the coat, breathing deep the smell emanating from the coat. Sea salt and alcohol, a hint of blood and Kidd's own scent. It was ... almost comforting. In a way, it was the smell of freedom.

Snuggling down into the bristly softness, it took her very little time to drift off to sleep.


End file.
